Lasting Fame
by Zeroninety
Summary: An incomplete novel. In 2012, the Rock And Roll Hall of Fame announces that Jem and the Holograms are in-and the Misfits aren't. What revenge does Pizzazz have in mind? What schemes are Riot, Eric, and Techrat planning? And what secret has Jerrica been keeping about Synergy, and Jem?
1. Prologue

(I worked on this novel periodically during 2012 and 2013. Nearly all of my short stories were intended to tie in with it. I was around halfway finished when I abandoned it, and writing in general. Recently, I decided that even though it'll never be finished, I put too much thought and effort into the novel to just let it sit on my hard drive forever, so I've decided to publish it in its unfinished state. Some parts work, some parts don't, and some ideas were overly ambitious and complicated, but I think it makes for a decent half of a story, overall. The story reached Chapter Fifteen before I abandoned it).

* * *

Prologue

It all began with the death of my father…

When I was a young girl, I used to brag to my friends that my father was the smartest man in the world.

It was only after he died that I realized just how brilliant he truly had been.

For the last several years of his life, he worked on an amazing project: the ultimate audio/visual entertainment synthesizer…the most advanced holographic projector ever created…

Synergy.

And with Synergy's help, Jem was born.

Jem, who sang like an angel.

Jem, who was the sweet natured girl every mother wanted as a daughter; every child wanted as a big sister; every woman wanted as a best friend; every man wanted to marry.

Jem, who stood for fairness, tolerance, and everything that's good in the world.

Jem, who could accomplish anything she set her mind to.

Jem, who lived a constant life of glamour, glitter, fashion, and fame.

Jem, who could always be counted on to do the right thing.

Jem, who bore no baggage and no past to weigh her down.

Jem, who never saw her father in agony as he withered away before her eyes.

Jem, who never saw a yellow plastic sheet placed on her mother's charred corpse as they pulled her from the wreckage of her plane.

Jem, who didn't have to carry the memory of angry words she could never take back.

Jem, who could skip through her days without the burdens of being "Jerrica Benton."

Jem, who was everything I wanted to be.

It felt good to be her, for a little bit.

The longer I could be her, the better I felt.

Why be Jerrica at all, if I could help it?

But my sisters didn't see it that way. They missed Jerrica.

I didn't expect anyone would.

They killed Jem. She disappeared, never to return.

I've been Jerrica Benton ever since: three-time L.A. Businesswoman of the Year; recipient of a lifetime achievement award for my work with foster girls; an aunt and sister and friend.

But I know something no one else knows.

Jem is alive.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

The wind off Lake Erie in the winter's cold enough to freeze your tits off.

Still, it's what I have to put up with every year around this time, when I come to Cleveland to cover the annual announcement of the inductees to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

If you're old enough, you might remember when I used to host my own show on VTV. For those of you who _aren't_ , it might surprise you to learn that in the days before they became the home of such quality programs as _Knocked Up at 13,_ and _Passaic Paisans,_ VTV used to show something called "music videos."

An amazing concept, I know.

As the years passed, and _The_ _Lin-Z Pierce_ show became a fading Gen-X memory, I settled into my role as cable-TV elder stateswoman, infomercial mainstay, and regular contributor to shows like _Don'cha Love the 80's?_

But it's my "job" as music columnist for that brings me to Cleveland every year, as the warhorses from my generation have reached the age where it's their turn to be enshrined in the hallowed hall dedicated to _Rambling Rock_ publisher John Weiner's ego.

What can I say? After thirty years in this business, you get a little cynical.

Still, as the hellish wind whipped around me as I headed into the Hall, I couldn't help but be a little excited.

Two of the biggest bands of the 80's were expected to be inducted. The lead singer of one group had disappeared from the face of the earth more than twenty years earlier. The other group, as much as I couldn't stand them personally, were guaranteed to stir up controversy.

Best of all, the groups had been cutthroat rivals.

Even I had begun to salivate at the thought of Jem and the Holograms and the Misfits sharing a stage once again.

And if I could wrangle an interview or two? My column's hits would double. Triple!

A little later, I settled into my seat next to the rest of the music journalist's fraternity, and held up my smartphone to catch John Wiener as he strode to the podium for his annual announcement.

"And now, our inductees for 2012."

Finally.

Weiner cleared his throat and began announcing the nominees in his typical monotone. "Early blues pioneer, Dirty Banks."

I'd never heard him a play a note, but I assumed he must be quite worthy.

"The innovative producer, Jim Smalls."

Didn't ring a bell. Before my time, I assumed.

"The beloved singer-songwriter, Tom C. Holder."

I shrugged; a critics' darling who'd never been able to muster the votes until other, bigger names of the 70's were already in.

"Legendary soul diva, Janette Wilcox."

I smiled: Janette was a sweetheart, and the newfound attention coming her way would surely help ease her endless tax problems.

"New Wave stars, Socratic Hemlock."

I remembered three or four songs of theirs I liked, but I'd never been enough of a geek to follow them too closely.

"80's superstars, Jem and the Holograms."

Entirely expected, and the announcement sent a buzz through the press.

"And the late Prince of Pop, Dominic Lerner."

I gasped, not because he'd been inducted—that was an inevitability. But I assumed he wouldn't be eligible for a few more years, and it wasn't till later that I was reminded of his early, teenaged albums. This could only help to further erase the memory of his bizarre, tragic later years.

Wiener put down his paper. "Congratulations, again, to this year's inductees." He led the crowd in muted applause. (We're press—we're not _supposed_ to clap, even though we do, a little).

I heard the reporter from ANN in front of me say it first, and soon the entire room became swept up in the buzz, as each and every one of us reviewed our notes to make sure we hadn't missed anything.

But there was no mistake: The Misfits, regarded by everyone and her grandma as surefire first-ballot Hall of Famers, had been snubbed.

This was the best news I'd heard in months.

As much as I detested Pizzazz, the former leader of the Misfits, I couldn't help but grin when I realized that _whoever_ could land an interview with her would make a fortune on the open market.

Why not me?

But first things first. I managed to separate myself from the hungry horde, who, in the absence of anyone with any real knowledge, asked each other "Is Jem gonna show up?" and "How's Pizzazz gonna react?" I caught a cab outside the Hall and headed back to my hotel.

After brushing off the cabbie's attempt at small talk (just my luck—he recognized me!), I searched through my iPhone's address book and found the number for the president of Starlight Music.

"Hey, Jerrica doll," I enthused when she answered, "This is Lin-Z, making sure that I'm the first to tell you the good news!"

* * *

For someone whose office offers a spectacular view of downtown Los Angeles, I hardly ever look out my window.

When I first took over my father's office at Starlight Music, looking out the window meant seeing our rivals at Misfits Music, and knowing that Eric Raymond was there, looking down as he planned to steal my company from me.

Then, after the building across the street became the home of Stingers Sound, I spent years averting my eyes from it.

I knew that inside worked a man whose heart I broke, because only part of me loved him.

The part of me I had to put aside, because one life is hard enough to live, let alone two.

Now, the Stingers had shifted their operations to Berlin, and the building across the way was no more, replaced by a vacant lot and stray building materials for a shopping center that had been held up for months by red tape.

Well, I guess you can call me Jerrica Red Tape.

With the money I'd been offered for my property, I could easily build a new, modern office building, as well as make a number of needed upgrades at Starlight Mansion.

I _could_ do that.

But on this day, like every other, I sat in my father's chair, at my father's desk, in my father's office, in the building my father built for the company my father started to promote my mother's career.

I put Synergy aside, because I didn't know how to use her without letting Jem take over my life.

Our childhood home went up in flames, a sacrifice to Eric Raymond's greed.

I had hardly spoken to my sister in the past several years.

I'd seen my niece even less.

I never had children of my own.

This building—this company—was all I had left of him.

Of either of my parents.

I could never let it go.

I swiveled in my chair and looked out the window for a moment at the ever-present crane and bulldozers in the dirt lot.

I made the silent promise I always made to my parents.

"I won't fail you again."

Then, my phone rang, and soon everything would change.

* * *

"Well, I just want to say, on behalf of Jem and the Holograms, that they could not have received a greater honor."

Record company muckety-mucks have a knack for diplomatic language, and few could deliver it with a smile in their voice the way Jerrica Benton could. Had she been a corrupt egomaniac as well, she might have become the first woman in the Oval Office.

"My readers will be dying to know," I asked her, "Are you able to contact Jem to let her know of her big induction?"

I paced around the lobby of the Blue Canopy Inn as Jerrica chuckled on the other end of the phone. "Well, Lin-Z, as you know, Jem's privacy is very important to her." She paused, a little too long, before adding, "What I _can_ say is that Starlight Music is able to make contact with Jem, and I certainly will inform her of this wonderful honor."

As I headed up the stairs back to my room, I upped the ante. "And when you speak with her, will you ask her if she's willing to perform at the big induction concert?"

She again gave a long pause before softly replying, "I can't predict ahead of time how the conversation will go."

As I slid my keycard into the lock, I decided I'd juiced all I could from the Jem angle, and took another tack. "The other big news is that the Misfits were snubbed by the Hall. Do you think that's fair?"

The line went dead for a moment, long enough for me to ask, "Jerrica?"

"Yes, sorry." She sighed before replying. "You look at their sales and their loyal fanbase, and you can only conclude that no, that's not fair. But not everything is about sales. If the Misfits were snubbed, I can only conclude it's because their history of thoughtless, selfish behavior created a negative impression that still lingers among many of us in the music industry."

I clicked my teeth as I opened my laptop. "So you're saying, 'You reap what you sow'?"

"I guess you could phrase it that way."

I'd already begun tapping away at my keyboard. "Good, good."

"I hate to cut this short," Jerrica added, "But I'd like to let the Holograms know the good news."

"Of course, of course," I told her, as I typed my next headline, "HOLOGRAMS MANAGER SAYS MISFITS DESERVED SNUB!"

"Thanks for letting me know." She had switched back to her aural grin.

"No problem, gal. Congrats, and hope to see you at the big shindig."

"I'll certainly be there." As the line went dead, I stopped typing for a moment and began looking up contacts who could get me Phyllis Gabor's number.

* * *

The setting sun glinted off the freshly detailed chrome of the Mustang's rear bumper, as I wiped the sweat from my eyes.

Restoration work is enjoyable enough when I'm being paid for the job, but it has a special satisfaction when I know I'll be parking the car in my own garage at the end of the day.

I gave the car a final wax, as I warned my older boy David and his friends to keep their soccer practice away from the garage; He gave me a half-hearted acknowledgement and moved the game closer to the beach.

I ran the chamois over the hood when I heard Craig calling from the house. "Hey, phone for you, babe!"

I gave the Mustang a pat on the hood as Craig shuffled down the steps and handed my phone to me, along with a peck on the cheek for good measure.

I put the phone to my ear and said, "Hello, Aja speaking."

"Aja, have you been online at all?" Jerrica voiced bounced with anticipation.

"No, I've been outside for a few hours. What's going on?"

"Aja," she declared, "I've just received word that Jem and the Holograms have been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame."

I let the words echo in my thoughts for a few moments before I replied. "For real?"

"Lin-Z Pierce called me a few minutes ago with the news, and I just confirmed it with representatives from the Hall. Congratulations, Aja."

"Wow! You too." I didn't know what else to say. Even though Craig still sat in with local bands from time to time, our connections to the music business had become so loose, I simply hadn't remembered that we'd be eligible any time soon.

"Thank you," Jerrica replied, before she added with a chuckle, "I hope you won't mind another round of interviews. I know it's a hassle, but the spike in sales of our back catalog is sure to help the Starlight Foundation."

"Oh, of course." Truth be told, as much as I loved life up on the coast with Craig and the boys, a change of pace is always fun now and then, and it would only be for a month or two.

Then the first dark cloud passed through my thoughts. "What did Kimber say when you told her?"

The line went silent for a moment. "I haven't talked to Kimber yet."

"Jerrica, you should have called _her_ first."

I stepped into the garage for some privacy, as David and his friends headed back to the house. I heard Jerrica sigh. "I was hoping you could tell her."

I perched on Craig's drum stool and tried to keep from knocking the hi-hat over. "I thought you two were talking again."

A sharp tone entered her voice. "I thought so too, but I guess she's got other ideas. I tried calling her three times last week, and she hung up each time."

I ran my fingernail along the snare. "Well, I want you to understand that I'm not going to spend the rest of my life relaying notes between you two like we're in junior high."

Jerrica dropped the defensiveness and switched to a plea. "Aja, _someone_ has to let her know about the induction. It doesn't seem like she wants to listen to me, but you've always been able to get through to her. Please, this is very important."

I swallowed hard and decided nothing could be gained from evasions or euphemisms. "And if she's been drinking again? What's the plan then? We can't subject her to media scrutiny if she's anything like the way she was a couple years ago."

"I know," Jerrica replied, softly. "I don't have a plan. Maybe we won't need one. But I can't get close enough to her to find out."

I picked up one of Craig's drumsticks and twirled it idly. "So, I'm the one with the guts to do the jobs no one else will, right?"

"Aja, I-"

"Of course I'll do it, Jerrica. I'd just rather not always have to be the one, you know?" I gave the bass drum a quick kick, and let the boom echo against the walls.

"Aja?"

"Yeah?"

I heard a small crack in her voice. "Tell her I miss her. Tell her…tell her to call me."

I sighed. "Of course I will."

"Hey," she added, "This is a day to celebrate, ok? Soon, we'll all get together and have a big party at the mansion."

I allowed myself a grin as I brushed my palm along the tom. "Sounds nice."

"Sure, we'll invite everyone. All the girls will come home, and we'll invite Danse, and Video, and the Countess…"

"And Jem?"

I groaned as the line went dead again. Finally, she spoke up, "Well, I need to let the others know. Please let me know what Kimber says."

"Sure."

Without another word, she hung up.

I grabbed another drumstick, and began making an unholy racket, jumping from tom to snare to cymbal, with no attempt at a beat.

Craig jogged up from the house, looking more winded than he should after such a short distance. "Something the matter?" He recovered his breath in time to give me one of his patented killer smiles—guaranteed to turn my knees to jelly.

I tossed the sticks aside. "Nope. Well, not after I make a phone call." I hauled myself up from the drum stool and threw my arms around his shoulders. "We're gonna take the boys over to Mrs. Adelman's, and then you and I are gonna have dinner, and champagne." I spotted my new car from the corner of my eye and added, "Then you're gonna make love to me in my Mustang."

Craig threw his head back. "Wow, what's the occasion?"

I gave him a quick kiss on the lips and told him "You're married to a Hall of Famer now, buddy."

He caressed my cheek and ran his finger along my left earlobe. "Hey, I've been married to one for seventeen years."

I brushed my lips against his palm and reminded him, "Eighteen."

He pulled me close to him and pressed his lips against mine. I breathed in his scent, and soon had trouble remembering my own name.

* * *

I'd been so good.

Honest.

I went more than two months without a drink. It was hard at first: I couldn't quite figure out how to fill my evenings without my cocktails, or how to fill the days I used to spend waiting for my evenings.

But each day got a little better. My aches and pains felt a little less achy and painful. I started getting outside more and being active again. Soon, I found myself writing new songs-songs I actually wanted to share with the world.

After a while, I noticed guys were starting to pay attention to me again, and not just skeevy ones anymore. Even a quick "Hey, beautiful," was enough to make me feel twenty again, for a moment.

I felt so good, I started making plans to fly back home to L.A. for a visit.

Wouldn't Jerrica be surprised to see how good I looked?!

 _And this time,_ I had thought, _we're finally gonna become sisters again._

Then one day, when my daughter, Sara, called from school, she let it slip that her stepmother was going to have a baby…

Two weeks later, I sat alone in the living room of my Cape Cod home.

An old Taps Tucker album played in the background, as I sipped my sixth vodka and cranberry of the evening.

I'd drawn the curtains.

As I sometimes did in moments like that, I started to imagine my obituary:

"KIMBER BENTON, EX-HOLOGRAM, DEAD AT 44"

"WASHED-UP POP STAR FOUND DEAD"

"'KIMBER WHO?' SAYS DEAD STAR'S EX"

"KIMBER'S SISTER: 'SHE'LL NEVER EMBARRASS US AGAIN'"

I knew that last one went too far, but I didn't really care, as I began mixing drink number seven.

It was right then that I heard the phone ring. I don't remember why, but I started to run, then realized I wasn't steady enough for that, and slowed to a creep.

I heard the answering machine kick in, and Aja's voice. I couldn't quite make out what she was saying.

I nearly reached over to pick up the phone.

Instead, I left the room. I stumbled up the stairs and collapsed in a heap when I reached my bedroom.

I didn't want Aja to hear me. Not like this.

She'd never let something like this happen to her.

None of them would.

I dragged myself to the bed and plopped my dizzy head on the pillow.

A thought crossed my mind: _W_ _ith my luck, someone more famous would die the same day as me!_

I laughed till I cried.

I cried till I slept.

* * *

I was groggy enough that I didn't know if I'd heard Jerrica correctly. "Did you say the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?"

"Congratulations," she told me, adding, "I hope you'll be able to make it over here for the induction ceremony.

I yawned into the phone, and quickly apologized. "Well, I'm only scheduled to be in Paris for a couple more weeks. Anthony and I are flying back home on the 18th. Then I'm not scheduled to come back out here till May."

Anthony, in bed next to me, on his stomach as always, mumbled something. "Go back to sleep, honey," I whispered to him.

Jerrica sounded as if she were checking something. "Uh huh. Good, good, that should work out fine."

"Ok," I replied, too sleepy to stay in the conversation much longer.

Indeed, I must have begun dozing off, since Jerrica soon called "Shana?" in my ear.

"What? What?"

"I wanted to ask you a favor."

I smiled, knowing exactly what it would be. "Of course I'll do the dresses for the induction."

"Oh, thank you, Shana. You know we wouldn't be Jem and the Holograms in anything but Elmsford originals!"

As sleepy as I was, something in her tone and her words caught me by surprise. "We? Jerrica…should I start work on _stage_ costumes? What do you have in mind?"

The line went silent for a moment, before she replied, softly, "I guess I got a little carried away. It's been an exciting day." She sighed, and then added, "We'll just need evening wear. Something formal, with a hint of the old Hologram look."

I turned on the bedside lamp, grabbed a notepad and jotted down a couple quick thoughts. Anthony grumbled, and I reminded him to go back to sleep.

"When I get back home," I told her, "I'll make sure to show everyone some sketches."

"Excellent!"

I tapped my pen against the paper as a thought came to mind. "How's Kimber doing? I know she must be thrilled with the news."

Jerrica didn't answer for a moment.

"Jerrica?"

"I haven't talked to her. I asked Aja to tell her."

I sighed.

She jumped in to defend herself. "Kimber's been hanging up on me. If she doesn't want to talk, I can't force her. If there's anyone she'll listen to, it's Aja."

I rubbed my temples and popped my stiff neck. "Well, I hope you know what you're doing. I hate to see you two like this."

"Do you think I enjoy it?" I could hear the irritation in her voice, and I suddenly realized just how tired I felt.

"Thank you for letting me know the news, but I'm very sleepy."

Jerrica started to say something, but stopped herself and finally said, "You're right. Well, rest up-I know the press'll be knocking down your door tomorrow, if they don't start tonight!"

I smiled. "Like old times."

"Absolutely. Have a good night, and congratulations!"

"You too. I love you."

"I love you too, Shana." With that, the line went dead.

I put the phone down, switched off the lamp, stretched my tired arms, and cuddled up next to my husband. I wrapped my arm around him and placed my hand against his heart, as I kissed the back of his neck.

"Who was that?" he mumbled.

I gave him a playful swat. "Silly! You know it was Jerrica-after all this time, I can tell when you're asleep and when you're not!"

Anthony chuckled. "I knew you'd make it in on the first ballot."

"Oh, did you? You had more faith in us than I did."

He reached up and patted my hand. "I've always had total faith in you, woman."

I gave him a few more kisses on the neck, but I soon heard the snores that told me he was asleep for real this time.

Instead, I cuddled closer and put my hand next to his heart again.

I counted his pulse, as I thought back to the terrible days two years earlier, when that heart almost took him away from me.

* * *

"All right, I wanna thank our guests again: Flint Westwood, Angelica Millerand, and the music of Inter-slice!"

I glanced over at my bass player, Tom, and gave him a quick nod. As soon as I rapped my snare, he'd nod to the rest of the group and help them into the closing theme.

At the desk, Bobby continued speaking to the camera, as he gestured to the cherubic-faced man seated next to him. "And as always, I wanna thank Kurt Scales." He pointed to me and added, "And of course, Raya Alonso and the Overnight Sensations!"

I gripped my drumsticks. Just a few more moments…

"Goodnight, everybody! See you on Monday!"

As soon as the word "Monday" escaped his mouth, I whacked my snare, and in moments, we were swinging our way through the closing theme I wrote, "College Fund." (Since it gets played every night on the show, I knew I'd be able to earn enough royalties to help send my nieces and nephews to school!)

After about a minute and a half, the director signaled for the cameras to shut off, and we brought the song to a close.  
We spent a moment enjoying the warm applause of the studio audience.

Of course, I waited on my drum stool for a moment—I knew taping might not yet be over, and I watched as my boss for the last dozen years, Bobby Howard, talked to the director over the studio speakers: "Pick-ups? Any more pick-ups we gotta do? If we need re-takes, you gotta tell me now."

Bobby had become a friend over the years, even if not a close one, but I knew his temper could flare if he thought someone wasn't giving his all.

Just then, one of the stagehands handed me a note: "Call Jerrica. Exciting news."

I grinned. I knew exactly what she wanted to tell me.

We made it in.

I'd been on pins and needles for weeks as the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame announcement grew closer.

I never doubted we'd get in. Not because of anything I had done; these days, I think most people forget I even used to _be_ a Hologram. Now, I'm mostly known for being the bandleader on _Overnight with Bobby Howard_ who looks cute when they have her tell a dick joke! (I told my mother several years ago that it's best if she doesn't watch—she tried harder to get me to go to confession after hearing me say "ballsack" on TV than she did after my divorce).

No, I never had any doubt, because it's the Hall of Fame, and no one was more famous, and more beloved in the mid to late-80's than Jem.

"Fine, fine," I heard Bobby, call out, before he waved his arms and yelled out, "All right, that's a wrap for today, everyone! Great show!"

As I stepped off my stool to head to my dressing room, I heard him add, "And everyone give a big hand to Raya! We've just been told that Jem and the Holograms are among the latest inductees to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame!"

I had to fight back the tears as Bobby, Kurt, my band, the stagehands, and the entire audience gave me a standing ovation.

At moments like that, I couldn't help but think of Papa, and how different my life would have been if he hadn't convinced me to go to my audition with the Holograms.

I would have never achieved all the things I had if he hadn't believed in me.

If he hadn't taught me to believe in myself.

As the cheers rang in my ears, I remembered how it had been almost a year and a half since he'd passed away.

Then the tears came.

After a half hour of congratulations, handshakes, and hugs from my co-workers, I finally slipped into my dressing room and dialed my phone.

"Raya!" Jerrica announced cheerfully when she answered, "I've been trying to get a hold of you!"

"Oh, it's been so busy here-I heard the news on the set!"

"Oh, that's wonderful! Well, I just wanted to let you know, and give you my congratulations."

I smiled, before remembering she couldn't see me. "And you too. We would never have made it without you."

Jerrica became quiet, before telling me, "That wasn't really me. It was Jem."

"But you _are_ Jem." I soon corrected myself. "Well, you were."

"We're going to have a special dinner at Starlight Mansion on Sunday night," she announced. "If you're not busy, I hope you can make it. I know Shana won't be back for a couple more weeks, but I hope Aja and Craig will be able to make it down."

"Sure, of course I'll be there." I bit my lip before adding, "And Kimber? How is she doing?"

After spending so many years in the music business and in Hollywood, it wasn't easy to shock me anymore. Even Bobby's sidekick, Kurt, one of the funniest, sweetest men I knew, battled an addiction to cocaine for years before we realized what was going on.

But Kimber was different—she was like a sister, and the last time I'd seen her, she could barely stand up.

"I don't know," Jerrica sighed. "She won't talk to me."

I knew better than to pick at her wounds. "Thank you again for the congratulations. I owe everything I have to you."

Jerrica laughed. "Raya, you would have succeeded no matter who you worked with. We were so lucky to find you."

The tears came again.

" _Gracias,_ " was all I could say. " _Gracias, mi amiga._ "

We soon said our goodbyes, and I soon rejoined my co-workers. The after party couldn't have been better, and I celebrated until the early hours of the morning.

* * *

Just when an evening filled with kudos and well-wishes from across the globe began to risk giving me a swelled head, the Starlight Girls helped bring me back down to earth. The name "Jem and the Holograms" doesn't mean much to them.

Even our oldest girls are too young to remember Jem.

Discovering that my sister's Kimber Benton doesn't leave them much in awe anymore, either. Not that I'd tell Kimber that…

After a night of helping Madison and Hannah with their spelling homework, running lines with Alexis for her part in the school play, washing dishes with dear old Mrs. Bailey, and going over next month's expenses with my assistant, Ashley, I finally found time to settle down and celebrate with a glass of wine—champagne's not in the budget for informal events.

"What a day!" I slumped onto the couch in my office in the mansion.

Ashley poured a glass for herself and took a seat next to me. "A day you've all deserved for a long time, Jerrica."

I shrugged. "They deserve it all. I had the easiest job in the world, promoting such a great group."

I heard Ashley laugh. "It was _never_ easy with the Misfits around!"

I took a sip. "I didn't tell you the best part, did I?"

"Hmm?"

"The Misfits didn't make it in." I laughed, but the laugh felt hollow in my throat.

Ashley chuckled. "I guess what goes around, comes around." She clinked my glass before taking a big gulp.

I stared at my drink. "I suppose you're right."

A little later, as I headed to bed, I made a detour to the empty room—the room in the mansion that had once been hidden behind holographic walls. The room I'd never been able to bring myself to use for anything else.

As I stood in my nightgown in the bare room, I began to concentrate, focusing my mind on a single thought.

"Can you hear me?"

I emptied out all the excitement of the day, until that thought was all that remained.

"Can you hear me?"

 _Jerrica?_

"Is that you? Are you here in my mind now?"

 _I am always here when you ask for me, Jerrica. How can I help you?_

"I've had some news today that's brought up a lot of old memories. Memories of being Jem."

 _Those memories bother you?_

"Well, no. These were good memories." And they were. I remembered the exciting concerts; the cheering crowds; the five of us, onstage, together.

 _And_ that _bothers you?_

"A bit. I guess, it's just…"

 _You want to try again, but you worry that she will overwhelm you?_

"You know me so well."

I heard her chuckle in my mind.

 _I'm programmed to._

I swallowed hard. "What does she look like now?"

 _Turn and see._

I looked to my left. The woman next to me had so much of my own face in her, though with a few less wrinkles. She was a tad thicker in the middle than the last time I saw her, and her pink hair was shorter and less bouncy.

But when I looked into her violet eyes, I could see so much of my own soul inside her that I forced myself to look away.

"Make her disappear."

 _As you wish, Jerrica._

I looked back to my left, and the image was gone.

For a moment, I thought I'd lost the mental connection, until I heard her in my head again:

 _Are you all right?_

"I think I'm just being silly. I should go to bed."

I stepped to the door and sent out a final thought, "Good night, Synergy."

 _Good night, Jerrica._

I felt the connection snap as I closed the door behind me.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

As I left Daddy's room, I ran straight into my new butler, Malcolm. "Madame Gabor, your son wants to speak with you."

I groaned. Just when I was in a good mood, too.

"Fine, fine. Tell him I'll be down in a few minutes."

Malcolm stared at his white gloves as he spoke. "He's quite insistent on seeing you now, madam."

I already disliked Malcolm and his attitude; he could look forward to reading the want ads again if he wasn't careful.

"Ugh, all right!" I shoved the idiot out of the way and my way down the hall, until I reached the main staircase of our huge, expensive mansion.

Stephen leaned against the railing at the foot of the stairs, his arms folded as he looked around at nothing. When he heard me coming, he jumped to attention. "Mom! What the hell are you doing to me?!"

I stopped at the top of the stairs and pointed down at him. "Ooh, don't take that tone of voice with _me_ , buster!"

He waved a piece of paper in front of him. "Try explaining _this_ , Mom! This was on my front door this afternoon."

I sighed. "If you think my eyes are powerful enough to read that from way up here, you're overestimating me, sweetie!"

Stephen snorted at me, the brat. "You know what it is! It's an eviction notice!"

I put my hand to my chest and gasped. "How awful."

"I went to the apartment manager to find what the hell's going on; he told me I was a 'disruptive tenant.'"

I grinned. "Son, I've always told you, some people just don't have any class." As I made my way down the stairs, I moved in for the kill. "Well, you're always welcome here with me."

He laughed as he ran his hands through his hair. "I _knew_ it. You got to him; you paid him off."

I gave him a smile as I reached the bottom and pulled him into a hug. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just glad you're coming home."

Stephen pushed me away. "This is ridiculous! It's over an hour commute to Leland."

I folded my arms and gave him my sweetest smile. "You can make connections that are just as good at a school around here."

"Unbelievable." He threw up his arms and wandered around the foyer. I'd seen him throw tantrums all his life, so it didn't surprise me when he grabbed a painting of some wimp on horseback and threw it to the floor. "I'm not a little kid anymore!"

I stepped over the torn canvas and grabbed him by his stubbly chin. "You're certainly acting like one!"

He backed away from me. "This is absurd, Mom. I'll look like a fool if you keep trying to baby me all the time."

Can you believe such ingratitude!

"I can't understand how you can stand there and talk to me like that," I sighed and shook my head. "I have _always_ been there for you. Your whole life, you've always had me-how many of your dumbass friends can say that?"

He walked up to me and tried to stare me down. I didn't blink. "Mom, I _have_ to leave eventually."

I curled my lip. "Says who?"

He turned and stormed away. "This is so stupid," I heard him mumble.

"Do you really think you'd be happier somewhere else?" I called after him.

Kids-they don't have a clue.

He gripped the door handle. "I don't need you, or your money, you know."

I chuckled. "Oh, really? This I _have_ to hear!"

"I had a look at the conditions of Grandfather's trust fund."

I gripped the edge of the foyer table. "Where? Where did you see that?"

"There's a copy in Gramps' room." He grinned. "You might say I did a little snooping when I was visiting with the old guy."

I let out a scream.

Stephen opened the door and laughed. "So I guess you know what it says? I can draw on a monthly allowance until I'm 21. Then, I get the whole enchilada. Adios, Mom!"

I started to chase after him as the door slammed shut. Instead, I turned and ran into the nearby sitting room.

I slammed the door shut and threw the closest thing at hand.

I'd hoped the sound of that ugly orange vase shattering into thousands of pieces would make me feel better.

It didn't.

 _Perhaps_ , I thought, _the one with purple flowers Daddy's Korean business partners sent me?_

I gripped it with both hands, let out my most powerful scream, and heaved it across the room. It crashed against the fireplace with an unsatisfying thud, and split in two.

"Stupid piece of crap!" I grabbed the fireplace poker and began bashing the vase to bits. After wearing my arms out, I kicked at the pieces that remained.

We have so much junk like that around the mansion, and with most I don't remember where most they came from. But I remember getting that vase—I was pregnant with Stephen at the time.

I remembered the night I first called him by his name…

When I was eight months pregnant, I was enjoying a well-deserved rest on the Italian leather sofa I asked Daddy to buy me as one of my baby gifts. Stormer was rubbing my feet, like I told her to, and reading to me from a baby name book, like I _didn't_.

"How 'bout 'Stanley'?" she asked, in a voice that was too damn chipper for nine in the evening. "It means, "stone meadow.' Pretty nice, huh?"

I groaned. "Sounds like a pharmacist with black-rimmed glasses and a pocket protector-next!"

Stormer smiled. "Oh, how about 'Stanton'? That sounds manlier."

I cringed. "One of Daddy's business associates was named Stanton. He tried to feel me up when I was sixteen-"

"That's awful," she interrupted, as she patted my feet.

Her sympathy weirded me out a little. "And, he was _ugly,_ " I added.

Stormer's head drooped. "Oh." She flipped the page. "How about 'Stephen'? It's means, 'crown.'"

"Whoop-de-fuckin'-do," I sighed. If she wasn't so good at giving foot rubs, I'd have told her to buzz off.

Stormer didn't take the hint. "Lots of famous people were named Stephen. Several popes, and lots of kings, too. An English king, and Hungary too, including their greatest king."

I perked up for a moment, until I remember how much perking up hurts when you've got an undercooked pot roast in your belly. "Really? Hungary?"

"Yeah," she gave me a surprised look, then read some more. "He was Hungary's first king, he established rule over the whole region, and he's Hungary's patron saint."

"King, eh?" I definitely liked the sound of that. My son, a king!

What could be more appropriate? After all, his mother is the queen of rock and roll!

And Hungary, as well. My family's Hungarian; I don't mean to sound all sappy, but the Misfits had played there several months earlier, and I found myself appreciating the place much more than I thought I would.

Hell, the kid was _conceived_ there—might as well commemorate the deed!

"Pizzazz?" Stormer asked. "You ok?"

I leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "Stephen's all right." I put my foot up to her face. "Now, get back to work."

I placed my hand on my belly and smiled.

 _A king…_

I groaned at the memory: a king who'd grown too big for his crown.

I searched the room for another vase—perhaps a painting would do just as well—when Matilda's gray head popped in the door. "Miss Phyllis?"

"What do _you_ want?!" I growled.

"Telephone for you. Says she's a reporter. Sounded fishy to me."

I sighed at my maid's cluelessness. "Did you get her _name,_ for God's sake?"

"Lindsay something or other. Sounded like one of those phone sex girls you hear about—kinda breathy, you know?"

Matilda's idiocy had begun to improve my mood a tad. "Well, maybe I'll go ahead and talk to her."

Matilda reached inside her blouse and pulled out my cell phone. "I think she's still on the line."

"Gimme that!" I shouted, as I grabbed the phone from her. "Now get lost!"

Matilda shrugged and shuffled out of the room.

I held the phone up to my ear. "This is Ms. Gabor," I announced with a smile.

The voice on the other end was raspy, not breathy, and the name she announced was even more disappointing. "Long time, no call, Pizzazz! This is Lin-Z Pierce here. I'm hoping I can get a word with you on today's big news."

I'd have hung up on the twit if it weren't for that last thing. "What big news?"

"Oh, don't tell me I'm the bearer of bad news," though she didn't sound too upset. "Sorry to tell you, but Jem and the Holograms were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame today," she paused for effect, and added, "and the Misfits weren't."

For the first two or three seconds after she spoke, I didn't even care. Then that little voice in the back of my head spoke up, and with each passing second, my fury grew.

"Thank you for letting me know, Lin-Z," I spit at her through my gritted teeth. "I have no comment at this time."

I heaved the phone against the door, and grinned at the sight of it splitting open, its electronic guts spilling out in a heap.

For the moment, my problems with my son were forgotten. I could deal with him later.

For the moment, I forgot Daddy's illness.

For the moment, all I could think of was Jem. Jem stealing the spotlight I earned. Jem stealing the honors that were due me.

I may not have given a fuck about any Hall of Fame that morning, but that was before they screwed me over.

I guess I've always been impulsive.

That's my right, because I'm me.

I made the decision right then, before I'd even confirmed that the news was true.

I would have my revenge.

I'd make them think twice about pissing me off.

I sat on the divan and tried to control my whirling thoughts.

In an instant, I remembered who I am.

I'm Pizzazz.

I'm a Misfit.

* * *

"Oh, you don't usually drop her off yourself."

Blimey, the way Andy looked at me, you'd think I had a third arm growing out of me bum.

I dropped one of me daughter Bett's bags and glared at him. "I need to talk to you, right?"

He gave me the same blank, somewhat dim expression he tended to give me whenever I was about to row with him when we were still married.

I nudged Bett in the elbow. "Right, in you go."

"Whatever."

Bett gave me a scowl and picked up her suitcases, making a show of how heavy they supposedly were.

Her dad stepped aside so she and her bags could fit through the door. "Dinner's at seven, kiddo."

"Whatever." Twelve year-olds aren't exactly gabby.

"Hey!" I called out to her. "You gonna walk off without giving Mum a hug?"

Me daughter gave me the least sincere hug imaginable before scurrying in the house.

"Little smart-arse, she is."

Andy gave a small snort. "Being a little hard on her, maybe?"

I sighed. "Of course, she never pulls any of that rubbish on dear old Daddy, does she?" I gave him a small smile. "Anyroad, we can argue about that some other day."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Hmm. What do you want?"

I reached into me purse and pulled out a stack of papers. "Explain this."

He ran a hand through his thinning hair as he scanned through the pages. "What are these?"

I folded me arms as I paced on the front steps. "Andy, you know I can always figure out when you're telling porkies."

He stopped and stared at me for a moment. "I forget what that one means."

I snatched the papers from him. "Not bloody likely."

He gestured for me to come inside. "Let's talk in here."

Instead, I faffed about on the porch for a moment, and had a look at the sunset. "Nah, I'd rather chat out here, luv. Enjoy a bit of fresh air, and all that."

"What do you want me to say?"

I laughed, harder than I meant to. "I want you to tell me why you're writing a book about me."

He gave me that crooked little smile that even now makes me knees a little wobbly. "You figured it out?"

"I've got some _decent_ management now." I lashed the papers at him. "It didn't take an Einstein to understand what these publishing contracts meant."

Andy rubbed the back of his head. "How you get those?"

"Like I said: decent management, mate."

He tapped his hand against the door jamb and looked away. "I'm sorry."

I kicked his front step, before I remembered that me feet aren't as strong as concrete. "Bollocks!"

At least that made him look at me.

"It _is_ about me, innit? You're doing a bloody tell-all?"

He sighed. "About you, and working with the Misfits, yes."

"Arse." I would have walloped the blighter, except part of me just wanted to cry.

Fuck me.

He tried to spread on the honey. "I'm not the first person to write a book about you guys. And I promise it'll be a lot more balanced than some of the trash you find out there."

I should have told him, _but none of that trash was written by me bloody ex-husband._ Instead, all I said was, "Why?"

"You're about to go into the Hall of Fame. This is the perfect time. And the money would be good for Bett."

I laughed as hard as I could to cover up me tears. "Bett doesn't need any more bleedin' dosh! _I'm_ her mum; she'll always be taken care of, right?"

Andy tried to put his hand on me shoulder; I slapped it away. "Sheel, I'll let you read the proofs before it goes to the publisher, ok?"

"Oh, la dee da! That makes it all better!" I paced along the steps. "Even after everything that happened, I couldn't believe it when they told me. I still didn't believe it till you told me yourself."

I sat on the steps and watched his landscapers as they rode around on their bloody big riding lawnmowers.

He sat next to me, so I scooted to the edge of the step. "It's nothing personal; just business."

"Ten fucking years of marriage," I sighed.

Me phone rang, so I stood and tried to move away from him as I answered it. "Jetta here."

I heard the always knackered voice of me manager, Patty. "Hey hun, glad I got a hold of you."

"No problem."

I heard her sigh. "I've got bad news. The Misfits didn't get in this year."

I didn't say anything for several seconds. "Come again?"

"Just got the word in from Cleveland. 'Seven new inductees, including Jem and Dominic Lerner. Misfits snubbed.' I'm really sorry."

"Right. Well, thanks for telling me, luv." I hung up and turned to see Andy on the phone himself. His face looked pasty.

I realized what he'd just been told.

"Tough break, eh?" I called out to him as I headed to me car. "Guess there's always next year, ducky!"

He went inside and shut the door without a dicky bird.

I laughed as I switched the ignition on.

 _Bloody arse. Serves him right._

Right then, the news hit me. I smacked one palm against the steering wheel of me Lexus. Then the other.

In moments, me knuckles were bruised and red.

* * *

I played a quick scale on my synth as I tried to work out the transition to the bridge of my latest song. Nothing seemed to come to me.

Most of my day had been productive-I woke up a bundle of nerves as I waited for the news of the Hall of Fame inductions.

As the pieces of a new song came together in my head, I kept thinking forward to the induction ceremony. What would we wear? Would we perform? If so, what would we play?

Could we get through the event without falling back into our old ways and causing a brawl that would land us all in jail?

I realized that a small part of me relished the idea.

"I Owe You Everything" came together fast, even the lyrics, which I often have trouble with. I was working out the final kinks before I tried laying down a demo, when my manager called.

We didn't get in.

I couldn't begrudge anyone who made it. Not Jem and the Holograms. Not anyone.

I thanked Royce for telling me and quickly hung up.

I had almost called Kimber to send my congratulations, but I stopped myself. She'd want to celebrate the news with her family.

I sighed: she'd looked so unhappy the last time I'd seen her, when our negotiations for a new album together fell through.

Instead, I went back to the music room in my home and tried to focus on my new song.

As I struggled with the transition, I tasted a salty tear as it ran down onto my lips.

I wiped it away and began playing whatever came into my head.

I soon settled into a groove and began searching for a good riff.

Anything.

I started playing around with a funky rhythm. I began to grow as excited, as I bobbed my head along to the beat. I knew it might have a winner here.

Yet there was something familiar…

I played a little more, as I tried to vary the beat. But I couldn't get away from the rhythm. When I hit the main riff, I couldn't stop myself from singing along: "It's happened, I made it, I'm finally here…"

Shit.

I pulled my hands from the keyboard and tried to calm my rapid breathing.

When I get really stuck, I turn to the comfort of my oldest piece of hardware.

I reached under the little mixing desk and pulled out a battered case. I popped the latches and pulled out my old, orange-yellow keytar.

I switched on the beaten up instrument and pressed a middle C. The note came out ever so sour. The keytar had been a tiny bit out of tune for years (finding replacement parts was a nightmare), but I still found it relaxing to mess around on.

I began running through the verse of "I Owe You Everything" again, as I hummed the half-finished lyrics.

As I came to the bridge, an idea hit me: a booming sound, with a fast, insistent beat. I gave me idea a quick, sloppy run-through, liked what I heard, and I began to smooth out the sound a bit.

I tried it again, as I played the verse, the new transition, and the bridge. It sounded effortless, until I found myself singing along with the new section: "How does it feel to be popular?…"

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

I clutched the keytar to my chest as I sank to the floor. I tried to hold on for one moment…two moments…then the tears started.

I know it might sound silly. I hadn't been in the Hall of Fame the day before; my life wouldn't be any different the day after. And there was always next year.

But it hurt.

It hurts when eight gold albums and seven number one hits isn't good enough.

It hurts when you worked hard to be the best, and someone comes along and tells you it doesn't matter: the popular girls won instead.

God, it hurts like hell to be rejected.

After a few minutes, I put the keytar aside and struggled to my feet. I stepped out of the music room and wandered through the halls, until I made it outside to my front porch.

My gardens swayed from a light breeze as the sun set. I peered across Napa Valley and caught a glimpse of my neighbors' vineyards, far in the distance.

I took a seat on the front steps and pulled the daisy from my hair. I plucked each petal off, one by one.

I tried to take solace in the beauty of the land surrounding me, and my gardens of daisies, mums, and hibiscuses, as well as the little pond not far from the house where I put lotuses in.

And looked behind me, to my beautiful house, which I'd had built to recreate all the coziness of my childhood home, plus many of the luxuries I'd grown used to after becoming famous.

For a moment, I felt so lucky to be somewhere so peaceful; so beautiful; so…

 _So empty, for over a year now,_ I reminded myself.

God, it hurts like hell to be rejected.

I tossed the petals to the ground as I cried.

A few minutes later, I heard the sound of one of our earliest songs, "Universal Appeal," coming from my nearby phone.

I hadn't expected _her_ to call.

I blew my nose and wiped my tears away before I answered. "Pizzazz?"

"Stormer? Have you heard the news?" Her voice was soft, yet almost frantic.

"Yeah, I heard a couple hours ago."

"We have to figure out what we're gonna do about it."

I gave the phone quick glance before putting it back to my ear. "What are you talking about?"

"We're not gonna let this…this _insult_ pass without a fight!" The softness of a moment earlier had vanished.

I shifted position on the porch and winced when I felt a splinter pierce my bare foot. After catching my breath, I replied, "I don't like the sound of this."

"Those cretins had better think twice before they screw the Misfits over!" Pizzazz's voice had grown to a shout. "That Hall of Fame'll look like a junkyard when we're through with it!"

"We're not kids, Pizzazz. We can't go around wrecking things when we don't get our way." I sighed, and added. "And I'm not a Misfit anymore."

I had a shriek on the other end.

Once my skull stopped ringing, I put the phone back to my ear. The line seemed dead, until Pizzazz told me, firmly, "You were born a Misfit. You'll always be one."

"You're upset-"

"And you're being annoying, Stormer. I called for your _help_!" I could hear her heels clicking against the tile floor of the mansion. "You've gotta help me come up with a strategy."

I groaned. This wasn't making my day any better. "Why don't you just relax?" I scratched the wood steps with my toenails. "You know, I could drive down there tonight, if you want. I'd rather not be alone, anyway."

"Well, if you don't wanna help, don't bother."

"I _do_ wanna help you!" I rubbed my face. After all these years, no one could manipulate people the way our old leader could. "I mean, I want to help you feel better. This sucks, it really does, and I want to be with my friends. It'd be good for you too."

I heard Pizzazz click her teeth a couple times. "Fine, come over. But you better be ready to talk strategy!"

"I'll be happy to talk, yes."

I'd do whatever it took to avoid throwing more gasoline on her fire.

"Good," she replied. "And get a hold of Roxy. I'll track down Jetta."

I'd spoken with Roxy that morning. We'd both been so excited about the upcoming induction news. I realized I needed to call her as soon as I could—I dreaded to think how she'd react.

Roxy doesn't take bad news well. At all.

I hobbled over to my front door as I tried to find the splinter in my foot. "Pizzazz, I'll try to be down there in a few hours, ok?"

 _Not factoring in tweezing time,_ I thought.

"You'd better," she hissed. "When we're done, those creeps will wish they'd never heard the word, 'Jem'!"

I groaned.

Jem.

Jem, the popular. Jem, the beloved. Jem, the bane of Pizzazz's existence.

I don't know about everyone else, but if you knew Pizzazz, your life had gone much smoother since Jem disappeared!

"Look, I'll see you later, ok?" I then added, "Just don't do anything crazy till I get there."

She laughed. "Then you'd better drive fast!" She hung up, not that I really wanted to hear more.

I dialed Roxy's number as I tried to figure out what I'd say to her. But I knew she was supposed to be on stage that night, and I wasn't surprised to get her voicemail. "Hey, it's me," I said. "Call me back, ok? Love you."

With darkness having almost totally fallen, I slipped on some sandals and grabbed my keys. Surely the Gabor Mansion had tweezers.

* * *

"Is my wig the right shade of blue?"

I didn't bothering looking over at Kelly, or Kathy, or whatever her name was. "Yeah, sure. Couldn't look better."

I leaned back in the chair at my vanity and popped a couple grapes in my mouth.

I heard Whatshername gushing to Christine, "I can't believe it! I'm gonna be part of a real Misfits concert!"

Based on just her attitude, I might almost believe she _was_ Stormer.

"Here, let me help you with your makeup, kid." I turned to see Christine, fill-in Pizzazz #3, helping Whatshername, fill-in Stormer #7, apply her cat scratches and lightning bolt.

The grapes in my mouth didn't taste right when I saw this dumb kid wearing the makeup I came up with for Stormer when we were just kids ourselves.

I looked in the mirror and sighed. Surely I'd feel better once I got up on stage, in front of the crowd.

A girl who supposedly worked for the casino, even though she didn't look any more Indian than me, came in and told it us was ten minutes till we went on.

My new Stormer picked up an apple from the fruit bowl and tossed it at the door, missing the blonde Indian girl by inches. "We'll go on when we feel like it!" my latest hire shouted.

As the gofer ran off, Whatshername turned to me and asked, "How was that?"

I shook my head and chuckled, "Not bad, but Jesus, don't overdo it! Remember, there's a big difference between doin' this show and bein' a real Misfit, ok?"

The girl's head drooped. "Sorry."

I shrugged. "Whatever."

I tuned back to my grapes as Christine fixed the new girl's wig. After they went on a frantic search for bobby pins or some crap like that, I heard my phone ring. "Get lost, you two!"

Christine dragged the new girl into the hall without a word.

"Who is it?" I demanded when I hit the little answer button.

I head a chuckle, then, "Always good to hear you haven't lost any of your social graces, Roxy."

"Eric, what the hell do you want?"

My manager snorted into the phone, then said, "Were you aware that the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame announced this year's inductees today?"

Maybe this call wouldn't be as crappy as I thought. "Fuck yeah! We're goin' in this year!" I saw my reflection smile as I imagined how awesome it was gonna be to get up on stage with the Misfits—the _real_ Misfits—again.

All of us kick ass on our own, but when it's the four of us together, we're fucking unstoppable.

"Well, I've got some bad news for you." Eric paused before announcing, "You didn't make it in."

I picked up a grape and rolled it between my fingers. "I don't know what you mean—we got in, right?"

"This isn't brain surgery, Roxy! Jem got in, and you and your old partners in felonies didn't."

I felt the juice run down my fingers after I squished the grape in my palm.

"That's bullshit, Eric! You're makin' this up!"

I heard him groan. "I've got my own problems right now, Roxy. I'm just telling you what I heard, all right?"

I imagined myself kicking his smug face in. "I oughtta fire you!"

"Hey!" he barked. "Who's the one getting you booked all over the continent? Not your old _friends_ , that's for sure. You need me a hell of a lot more than I need you."

I couldn't think of nothing to say.

I heard a tiny knock on the door. My new Stormer poked her head in. "They're ready for us."

"Look," I told Eric, "I gotta go. But you better do somethin' about this!"

"Relax, I'll call in some favors, and make sure you get in next year."

"Fuckin' waste of space," I muttered.

I heard him chuckle again. "Roxy, sometimes I think you forget what a lucky piece of gutter trash you are. Enjoy your concert."

I shouted, "Asshole!" but he'd already hung up.

Moments later, the wall and floor were covered with grape juice and broken pottery.

I stormed out of the dressing room and nearly ran over Katie/Kimmy/Whatever. "Watch where you're goin'!"

"We're on!"

She grabbed my arm, which I slapped away from her. "Not in the mood, kid!"

She slunk away. I finally noticed her wig wasn't the right shade of blue. Well, too late to fix it now.

I heard the announcer guy yell out, "Great Fire Casino welcomes you all to our headline attraction! Now, let's give a big, Oklahoma welcome to THE MISFITS!"

Christine and the new girl ran onto the stage and grabbed their instruments to the cheers of the crowd.

Me, I held back. I nearly turned and ran right then. Instead, I walked up the steps, grabbed my bass from our only roadie, and strapped it on.

Before Christine could do her usual intros and launch us into "Takin' It All," I showed her my hand and stepped up to the mic.

I looked out on the crowd of fortysomething soccer moms and lardass wannabe metal heads, who gave me a big cheer when they realized I was the _real_ Roxy.

I swallowed hard and starting shouting: "Listen up! There's one thing you dumbasses gotta get straight about this world! Life ain't fucking fair! Just 'cause you earned something, that doesn't mean you're gonna get it! There's always somebody ready to fuck you over!"

I managed to get some applause for that.

Christine walked over to me and whispered, "We didn't rehearse this," in my ear.

I flipped her off. Immature? Sue me.

I'd kinda blown my wad, so I tried to get back on track. "Anyway," I announced, "That's what this song's about, I guess. If you want anything in life, you better damn well be ready to take it!"

I some cheers from the crowd as I nodded to my two employees. I yelled "One-two-three-four!" into the mic, and we were off.

Even though Christine couldn't really sound like Pizzazz if her life depended on it, and the new girl's wig fell off after about 20 seconds, we still sounded pretty damn good.

As soon as the song was over, I unplugged my bass and walked offstage. Behind me, I heard Christine shouting, and the cheers turning to mutters, and finally boos.

Soon, some jerk from the casino caught up to me and started getting all pissy about contracts and crap. I ignored him.

I stopped by the dressing room and grabbed my purse. As I came out, two big Indian bouncers got in my away. (I guess they were Indians—they had ponytails, anyway).

"Move it or lose it, jerks" I growled to them. When one of them said something about making me go back onstage, I put my weight behind my bass and rammed the head of it into his junk. He crumpled to the floor.

The other guy backed off and let me by.

As the casino executives tried to catch up, I made my way outside, past some fans and old geezers in walkers, and pushed my way to the crappy, uncovered spot they reserved for my Celica.

I stuffed my bass in the passenger seat before I fired up the engine. As I backed out, one of the casino guys thought he'd play hero by throwing himself on my hood.

He changed his mind when I started to roll forward.

As he dove out of the way, I jammed my foot on the gas and took off.

In a minute or so, I'd made it onto the highway.

I did about 105 as drove into the sunset.

I headed home.

Home to L.A.

* * *

It was nearly midnight when I staggered to the front door of the Gabor Mansion.

Even though we'd all seen at each other at various board meetings, industry outings, and courtrooms, this was the first time in nearly a dozen years that I'd visited my former home away from home.

After only a single knock, the door swung open. "Finally! It's about time you got here!"

I knew it was a bad sign if Pizzazz anwered the door for herself.

"I got here as fast as I could," I told her. "It's a long drive down here."

"Come on, Stormer, get inside!" She sauntered into the foyer, leaving me only two choices: follow her, or stand outside in the dark like a fool.

At least life's not complicated when Pizzazz is around. You're either with her, or against her.

I followed her into one of the many sitting rooms in the mansion, which happened to be decorated with a few broken vases and the remains of a cell phone. Matilda must have been slipping in her old age.

I took a seat on the couch as Pizzazz turned her back to me and poked around at the empty fireplace. "Did you talk to Roxy?"

"I called her, but I couldn't get an answer." I didn't mention that I'd called her seven times and left seven voicemails, and that I'd called the casino where she was scheduled to play and was told she'd run out in the middle of her show.

I didn't mention that I was terrified she'd done something desperate.

"Figures," Pizzazz groaned. "Well, I couldn't get ahold of Jetta either, so it's just you and me tonight."

Jetta too? As if this night couldn't get any worse.

I took a deep breath. They were big girls; they could take care of themselves.

Even Roxy…

I hoped.

Pizzazz turned to me and stared me down, with her hands on her hips. "So, any ideas?"

I slipped off my sandals and massaged my sore instep. "What are you talking about?"

She let out a small shriek. "What are we gonna _do_ about this outrage?!"

I sighed. "It's really late. If we're gonna talk about this, please, let's wait till tomorrow, ok?" A good excuse came to mind. "Besides, we should wait until Roxy and Jetta are here, so it's all of us."

She grinned. "I thought you weren't a Misfit anymore?"

I made sure I looked her in the eye. "I'm not. But I'm still your friend."

Pizzazz's head drooped. "Fine, whatever. I'm tired anyway." She headed to the liquor cabinet. "Want a drink?"

"Maybe a glass of wine."

She soon handed me a scotch and soda, and quickly downed her own glass.

I gave my drink a sip before pouring it into one of the vases when her back was turned.

I gazed around the room. "Almost nothing's changed. It's just like when I first came here." I'd made a small fortune of my own over the years, but I still couldn't help but be in awe of the priceless antiques that littered the Gabor Mansion.

Some of which lay in pieces two feet away from me.

"It's hardly changed at all since I was a kid." Pizzazz took a seat on the arm of the couch.

"You never told me that." I gave her a smile, as I sensed her guard dropping a bit. Those moments don't come often with Pizzazz, and I don't like to waste them.

"Even when I was in the band, I didn't like to change stuff here too much, you know?"

"I understand," I told her, and I did, very well.

I tried to think of a topic that would keep us well away from the whole "snub" issue. "How's Stevie doing this semester?"

Her eyes narrowed, and her pink lips curled. "I'm gonna go to bed."

Ok, wrong topic.

She strode out of the room, then popped her head back in for just a moment. "Your old room's made up for you. You know where it's at."

I didn't see her again that night.

I hobbled my way up the darkened staircase and struggled to remember my left from my right.

Despite my sleepiness, I made a detour to one of the many bathrooms.

As I suspected, they had tweezers.

I finally made it to the room I used to spend about half my nights in during my years in the Misfits.

A part of me expected to see the room just as it had once been. But when I switched on the light, I saw only a non-descript guest room.

Then, I noticed the vase full of freshly cut daisies on the nightstand.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

After satisfying one of my fans, I made myself a cup of Darjeeling and checked online for the news I'd been waiting for.

It may surprise you to hear how stressed I'd been in the days prior to the announcement. After all, I've been an icon of the entertainment world for the last twenty-five years. I have a record of unparalleled success at whatever I choose to do. What reason could I ever have to feel stress?

Of course, I have no reason to doubt myself-my brilliance is unquestionable.

But when my plans depend on the actions of others? That, my friends, is another matter.

I took a deep breath as I signed into the e-mail account which only my fellow Stingers knew of.

No new messages.

I clicked over to my entertainment news bookmarks.

No new updates.

As I checked my e-mail again, I felt fingers dance along my shoulders, and lips on the back of my neck. "Are you coming back to bed, Riot?"

I leaned back and looked up into her pale blue eyes. "I apologize. I have important business to attend to at the moment. Make yourself comfortable, if you like."

I'd met Weronika at one of Munich's trendier nightclubs about an hour earlier. She told me the usual story: she had been a lifelong fan, the Stingers had made her teenage years in Warsaw (or wherever) bearable, her children couldn't stand her taste in music, and all the other anecdotes women seem to think I'll find interesting.

I'd have excused myself, but the hours were passing too slowly that night.

When I took her to a corner of the club and wrapped my arms around her, she resisted for a moment: "Please, I'm married, and my friends will miss me if I'm gone too long."

That never ceases to amuse me.

I leaned in and kissed her, and her resistance crumbled.

They always give in.

After all, I am Riot.

I turned my attention back to the monitor as I double-checked the news. Still no word on the inductions.

Weronika kissed my shoulders before heading back to the bedroom. As she left, I turned to watch for a moment. It was only then that I noticed she had a large port-wine stain on her left buttock.

 _Such an imperfection!_ I thought. _I must be slipping—I would have never tolerated that kind of annoyance when I was younger!_

I returned to my e-mail, as I toggled back and forth between the "inbox," "outbox" and "spam" buttons, in the hope that a message from one of my comrades would suddenly flash on the screen.

I remembered what they say about watched pots…

 _A stupid expression: the pot will always boil when enough heat is applied. It's inevitable._

As I scanned my way through my bookmarks, I checked Lin-Z Pierce's blog. I knew she would be especially interested in getting the scoop on the day's news.

I stifled a laugh. I remembered how her resistance didn't last long either, when she was useful to me.

As her page loaded, the headline popped onto the page: "JEM, LERNER IN, MISFITS SNUBBED!"

I breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was going according to plan.

I gave a glance to the bedroom-perhaps a little celebrating might be in order.

I began to stand, but a sudden twinge of my arthritis made me think twice.

I sighed. Celebrating would have to wait till another day, with someone more perfect than the faded beauty who escaped her boring life for a night and soaked up a little of my glory, among other things.

I had work to do.

Within moments, I had texted Rapture and Minx, and alerted them to a meeting. With Phase 1 now complete, we had much to discuss.

When I returned to the bedroom to dress, I found Weronika in bed, with the sheets pulled up to her chest. When she saw me, she slid them down, past her hips. "I've been waiting for you."

She ran her fingers along her soft, brown nipples.

Jem's were pink.

Jem's were perfect.

"I'm afraid I must apologize again. Some important business has come up, and I must leave." I stepped into the closet and began to dress.

"So soon?" I heard her call out. "I was just getting comfortable."

I sighed as I slipped into my Italian loafers. _There just isn't enough of me to go around._

I grabbed a tie from the top of the dresser. As I slid it over my collar, I rummaged through the nearby desk. "Just one moment, my dear…"

I returned to the bed and handed her an 8 X 10 glossy of myself. "Here you go."

She furrowed her brow. "What's this?"

"A souvenir, to remind you of your night with me." I stopped for a moment to kiss her hand. "You're a very lucky woman."

Before she could reply, I picked up the phone on the nightstand and dialed my assistant, Gerhard, in the other room. "Have my car sent around, and see that Ms.…Ms. _Weronika_ is escorted to the lobby."

As I returned the phone to its cradle, I gave the woman in my bed a quick nod. "Good night." I gave my tie a final cinch and left the room.

The wait was almost over. Jem's killer would soon be in my sights.

* * *

In my office at the TEM institute in North Hollywood, Blueberry Waters twirled her black curls around her index finger as she rambled in her soft English accent, "…and you'd think having a co-writer would make things easier, cause she should be doing all the work, right? But let me tell you, I find meself on the computer half the night, e-mailing every little bloody detail about me life she can make me think of! I suppose it'll make the book better, since I've had quite a marvelous life so far, but then I heard another member mention that too much time on the computer can damage your inner eye, and cause an imbalance in your aura. That's the last bloomin' thing I need, because I _know_ photographers can sense when your aura's unbalanced. I mean, they're trained to look harder and deeper than most people—that's how Kirlian photography was discovered, right? Anyway, I can't model when me inner eye's out of joint—I simply can't! I owe it to the public and to TEM to keep me chakra in balance! Is there anything you can recommend? I don't care how much I have to pay."

I'd been busy smoothing out the wrinkles in my caftan until she mentioned the "p" word. I jumped to attention at my cue. "Well, perhaps I can find something here that would help. I certainly wouldn't want anything to impede the career of one of our most prominent young members."

"Oh, thank you, Rapture!" she bubbled.

I dug through a file cabinet next to the mats where we sat. "Think nothing of it, Blue." I found the "S" files and pulled out a small lump of black and gray stone.

I took a seat next to her and cradled the stone in my upturned palm. "I think _this_ is exactly what you need!"

"Bloody hell! It's lovely!" She reached for the stone, so I slowly pulled my hand away from her. "What is it?" she gasped.

"It's specular hematite." I announced. "It works wonders at keeping the harmful rays of a computer from penetrating your inner eye."

"Marvelous!" she enthused. "I want it! How much?"

I tapped my chin with my index finger. "Hmmm. These _are_ quite rare and valuable. But, I also can't forget how much value your membership has brought to us all here at the True Enlightenment Movement." I gave her a smile. "Don't tell anyone this, but I'm going to let you have this stone for $2500."

The model exhaled her relief. "Blimey, I was worried it'd be much more!" She reached into her zebra print purse. "Do you take checks?"

"Visa, MasterCard, or American Express," I informed her, as I held out my palm.

A minute later, the hematite and her receipt (for "Miscellaneous supplies") were in her hand. "Oh, thank you, Madame Rapture!" She bowed her head to me.

"Think nothing of it. The whole reason I started TEM was to _help_ people."

Blue caressed her hematite as if it was a newborn kitten. "Well, I feel better already!"

I rearranged a nearby stack of crystals. "That's the power of the stone. Make sure to keep it with you, always."

"Oh, I will!"

I gave her my sternest look. "And keep in mind—don't show it to anyone else: the stone doesn't discriminate who it helps. The more people who know of it, the less protection it will give _you_!"

Her mouth dropped open. "Oh no!"

I shook my head. "I can only tell you what I know to be true." I pointed to my nearby bookshelf. "I've consulted every ancient text I can find, and they all agree."

"Ancient? Fuck me, that's incredible!" She stared at her stone before she gingerly placed it in her purse. "I'll make sure no one else finds out about it."

I nodded to her. "That would be the wisest course of action."

Blueberry jumped to her feet. "I'd better get going. Autobiographies don't write themselves, much as I wish they did!" She paused and clasped her hands together. "Thank you, Madame Rapture. I don't know how to repay you!"

I gestured to the office around us. "Continue to favor us all with you presence in TEM. That is repayment enough."

It was then I noticed my cell phone vibrating. "Blue, could you excuse me?"

"Oh, of course, ma'am. Ta!" She skipped out of the office another satisfied customer.

I checked the number on the screen and grinned.

The news I'd been waiting for.

"Hello?"

I heard the voice of John Weiner, the Chairman of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. "Madame Rapture, I just left the conference room."

"And?" Why do people feel the need to dramatize everything?

"The press is buzzing with the news: Jem is in, and the Misfits aren't."

I breathed a small sigh of relief. "Good work. All of TEM thanks you."

"I live to serve you. May I ask what our next move is?"

Such insolence! "You'll find out in due time!" I snapped.

Everyone's so impatient these days.

"Of course," he replied. "Let me assure you, Madame, the Stingers will receive an unprecedented welcome to the Hall in two years' time."

I chuckled. "I don't doubt that! Perhaps we can be the only inductees that year?"

The line went silent for a moment. "When the time comes, I'll see what I can do," he answered.

"Good. I need to go…my time is valuable."

I hung up the phone and smiled. I'd achieved everything I told Riot I would.

Now, it was only a matter of waiting for the inevitable text.

Riot loves the feeling of knowing we're at his beck and call.

Who am I to deny him such a pleasure?

I stepped into my inner office, poured myself a glass of Chardonnay, took a seat on the leather sofa, and waited.

Being a guru can be hard work.

* * *

"…Based on our current projections, the best we can offer is to raise our silicon trade from 6.5% over the next five years to 6.7%."

I groaned. Bureaucrats love to hear themselves talk! Especially American ones…

"I'll have to present your offer to the Chancellor and the full Cabinet and get their opinions," I replied in a monotone.

I glanced at the oak grandfather clock the previous Science and Technology Minister had left behind when "someone" alerted the press of his fondness for underage boys. Nearly midnight.

Riot had earned himself another earful from me!

"Of course, Minister." I heard the Commerce Secretary smack his lips annoyingly. "Sorry to keep you up so late, Minx. It's what…almost eleven?"

"Something like that," I sighed. "And I prefer 'Ingrid' when I'm representing my country." He didn't do anything to improve my opinion of his backward nation.

"My apologies. I'll send in my report to the President. Hopefully we should be able to get this ironed out soon."

I yawned as I rested my chin on my hand. "Of course."

"I'll check back with you soon. Enjoy your evening, Ingrid."

"Of course, you also…you." I dropped the earpiece back onto the phone and rubbed my temples.

Such a ridiculous job! Call _this_ fool, e-mail _that_ idiot-and budgets, budgets, budgets! Every time a project comes across my desk that actually interests me, it's always "Sorry Ingrid, that money's been earmarked for education," or "senior care," or some other useless thing.

It had only been six months since my appointment, but I already wanted to quit. Riot would just have to understand.

Easier said than done.

As the clock struck twelve, my assistant Annette entered and dropped a brace of manila envelopes on my desk. "The documents from the Mexican government you requested."

I shook my head at the girl. "Which ones?"

She took a step back. "Madame Minister, I didn't look! I don't have clearance."

I perked up: I knew now what had arrived.

"Go away!" I shouted, and the girl scurried out of the office on her chicken legs. I tore open the top envelope and began skimming the pages, translated from the original Spanish into annoyingly broken German.

"Inquiries into connections between Emmett and Jerrica Benton and advanced technology."

For the last few years, my investigations had brought up hints of links between Emmett Benton, the man who founded Starlight Music, and some sort of secret advanced technology-namely, a project codenamed "Synergy."

A project Riot remained convinced had something to do with Jem's disappearance.

I had begun to believe he might be right.

But as I went over the pages, I found no hint of Project Synergy; only old records of purchases of raw materials from Latin America in the late 70's and early 80's-materials that _could_ have been used to build advanced semiconductors and other computer parts.

I slumped my in soft, padded leather chair. These documents told me nothing.

And it still didn't tell me what Jerrica had to with any of it. She was no scientist-merely a dull, humorless businesswoman with poor dress sense.

I opened my desk drawer and checked my cell phone. Riot had left seven texts and three voicemails in the past hour.

Another videoconference. Ugh.

I tapped out a reply: "I'm doing the work *you* asked me to do! You can wait a little longer!" I pressed send, tossed the phone in my desk drawer, and slammed it shut.

It was when I opened one of the envelopes near the bottom of the pile that everything changed.

The Mexican government had been wiretapping an American scientist who had been asking questions about Emmett Benton…and Jem.

The scientist had been thorough, making contact with numerous members of the Mexican underworld over the past three years, as well as several top scientists.

I grew confused as I found reference after reference to holography. The American seemed to be convinced that Emmett Benton had _something_ to do with incredibly advanced holograms.

Holograms.

Jem and the Holograms.

I shrugged. Surely the fool had added two and two and gotten five.

Then I saw the surveillance photos.

The scientist had been photographed exiting a university in Guadalajara. Something seemed quite familiar about him: his handsome profile, his fiercely intelligent eyes, his hair…

His hair, shaved on only the left side of his head.

I knew him…very well.

And in an instant, it all became clear.

I tried to wrap my brain around what I'd learned. How would I tell Riot?

I already knew he wouldn't believe me. But that didn't change the truth…

Jem…and the Holograms.

Two and two make four.

She fooled us all.

* * *

I'm not a patient man.

I paced the floors of my office at our Munich headquarters; Rapture's bored expression filled one of the big screen video display on the wall.

"She's not coming, Riot. We might as well talk without her."

I faced the screen. "She'll be here. She always shows up, eventually. Anyway, the whole point of this meeting is so that we'll _all_ be brought up to speed on the day's developments!"

But I can't deny that Minx's actions puzzled me. She may have had her headstrong moments now and then, but overall, her loyalty had been unquestionable.

What could be more important than speaking to me?

Rapture rested her head in her hands. "Wanna hear about some of our new recruits at TEM?"

"No, I don't." While I was pleased by the extra funding Rapture's little religious community brought in, I regarded it as a mere sideline to her more important vocation: being a Stinger.

The right side of the screen finally flickered to life as Minx appeared. She adjusted her seating on camera, a lack of polish which disturbed me.

"Glad you could finally deign to join us, Minx."

As she let down her hair, Minx suddenly looked up at the camera. "You'll find out soon just why I was late."

Her stalling tactics didn't impress me. "Whatever it is, it can wait. We have important news to discuss."

Minx folded her arms and sighed. "Fine."

"Good." I looked to the other side of the screen. "Rapture, why don't you bring us up to speed on today's evens?" I took a seat on the edge of my desk and waited to hear the good news all over again.

Rapture grinned. "Well, John Weiner informed me that our Hall of Fame plan is proceeding just as I said it would: Jem and the Holograms have been inducted, while the Misfits were snubbed."

Minx perked up. "Impressive work, Rapture."

"I certainly think so," she replied, with the cocky smile that remains the hallmark of a true Stinger.

"Yes, truly masterful," I announced. "Soon the Misfits will introduce the chaos our plans require."

"But why?" Minx demanded. "You still haven't explained that, Riot." She leaned in close to the camera, her eyebrows arched in misplaced frustration.

"Frankly," Rapture declared, "I'd like to know too. I still don't see the whole picture."

Of course she didn't—this plan was far too grand for either of them to understand without my genius.

"Now that the Misfits have been excluded," I explained, "they'll undoubtedly react swiftly. Knowing Pizzazz's idiotic persecution complex, she's sure to rally the others into some sort of destructive revenge plot."

"But what good does that do us?" Minx asked.

"Dear Minx, the Misfits will soon rediscover their key weakness: poor leadership." I stood and approached the video screen. "And when they do, there's one man they're bound to turn to."

Rapture beamed from ear to ear. "Eric Raymond."

"Precisely. He's already managing Roxy Pelligrini, and I suspect he has some very deep… _personal_ ties to Pizzazz." I caressed a faded scar on my cheek and smiled at the thought of Pizzazz spending sleepless nights worrying over her bastard son.

Minx unleashed another exaggerated sigh. "But I still don't see what good this does _us_!"

"I'm getting to that. Your lack of patience is most distressing!" I paced the floor for a moment as I prepared for the big reveal. "Once Eric is involved he'll be certain to ignore the Misfits' complaints, and will use his involvement as an excuse to attack his bête noire: Jerrica Benton."

"Jerrica?" Minx's voice was small and strained. For a moment, I was thrown off by this sudden change in her demeanor.

"Of course!" Rapture enthused. "After all these years, Eric won't be able to resist a chance to humiliate Jerrica in public, if he can find it."

"Indeed." I replied. "And once he's got her off balance, that's when we strike!"

"Riot, what do you mean?" Minx's sudden timidity continued to surprise me. Curiouser and curiouser…

Now, the moment I'd been preparing for. "I now have no doubts: Jerrica Benton murdered Jem!"

Minx sank into her seat and turned away from the camera.

Rapture leaned back and rolled her eyes.

Not the reaction I'd hoped for.

"You both look like you have comments to make. I'm all ears."

Rapture spoke first. "This isn't exactly the first time you've declared that you're _sure_ you know who killed Jem. You've even mentioned Jerrica as a suspect before!"

Minx added in a flat tone, "We don't know that Jem's even dead."

I walked up to the screen and stared at Minx. She appeared distant and strange. "You'd be a fool to think that a person can simply _disappear_ for more than twenty years and still be alive somewhere."

"It depends," she mumbled.

Such an odd attitude.

"Part of the reason I encouraged you to run for the Bundestag was so you could use your government contacts to determine if there's been _any_ sign of Jem, anywhere. I ask you, has there been?"

"No, but if you'll just listen-"

"Thank you, Minx. No sign of her. If she'd been in an accident or..." the thought made me shudder, "if she took her own life, surely the body would have turned up by now, yes?"

Rapture smiled. "Of course." I nodded to her. She remained loyal beyond reproach.

"To disappear without a trace the way she did—no, you know as well as I it must have been murder. It _must_ have been! And Jerrica is still the most likely suspect."

The room was silent for a moment before Rapture spoke. "I've never understood that. Jem was making a fortune for Jerrica. Why kill her? I mean, surely Jerrica must have been jealous about her roadie boy toy screwing around with Jem, but that went on for years before Jem vanished." She gave a sly smile. "Besides, love is one thing, but money can forgive a multitude of sins."

"Your reasoning makes sense, Rapture. But you forget _this_."

I reached into my desk drawer and pulled out a yellowed U.S. government document—a letter, written by the late President, Peter Boyd, in which he thanks Jerrica Benton for saving his life, and makes mention of a mysterious entity called "Synergy."

"You remember my father obtained this letter shortly before he died. Before Jem disappeared, she told me she had a secret. I'm convinced it had something to do with this 'Synergy.' I believe she died because of it!" I turned to Minx and pointed to her. "You know it to be true!"

She wiped her eyes and shook her head. "Riot, please, that's what I need to talk to you about. I have new information about Jerrica Benton and Synergy!"

I stood dumbfounded by her laxity. "Why didn't you say so?!"

"You didn't give me a chance."

As much as I admire Minx and how her talents complement my own, her lack of professionalism astonishes me!

"Well," I groaned, "Why don't you tell us what you've learned?"

Rapture laughed. "This ought to be interesting."

I couldn't disagree.

Minx took a deep breath before asking, "What do you know about holography?"

"I didn't realize we were playing Trivial Pursuit." Rapture placed her head in both hands and sighed.

"Fine, make jokes. _Scheisskopfs!_ " Minx threw up her hands in a bit of needless posturing.

"Rapture, please, allow Minx to explain herself." I gestured for Minx to continue.

"An American scientist has been making enquiries throughout Mexico, searching for a link between Emmett Benton and some sort of advanced holographic computer."

I couldn't stop myself from laughing. "Is that all? Enquiries? Minx, you never cease to amuse me!"

She whipped out a photograph and held it up the camera. "This is the scientist. You know him, Riot!"

Techrat—the scientific wunderkind who'd been in Eric Raymond's employ. He looked barely a day older than when I'd last seen him. He'd mostly worked for us constructing laser shows and other stage effects—but some of his inventions impressed even me.

"Why is he investigating this?" I asked, my interest finally piqued. "What does he believe happened?"

Minx frowned. "Do you really want to know?"

"I don't ask idle questions." She should know that.

"If this is important," Rapture announced, "You _must_ tell us!"

Minx lowered her head and took a breath. She spoke softly, in German. "I can only say what I think is true. Jem was never real. She was only a hologram, created by Emmett Benton. That's how she could simply disappear."

I laughed, even though I couldn't figure out what the joke was supposed to be. "I held her in my arms. I kissed her lips. I made love to her!" I stopped in my tracks when I realized I had begun to shout.

Then, Minx raised her head and looked into the camera—right into my eyes. "Did you, Riot? Or was it Jerrica Benton you took to your bed?"

"This no longer amuses me." I turned away from the screen.

I remember the soft touch of Jem's hand on my cheek. The little curves of her hips that fit my hands perfectly. The little veins on the top of her feet that would pulse faster when I rubbed them.

She was real.

"I saw them _together_ …more than once. How could they be the same person?" Rapture, as always, could cut to the heart of the matter.

I heard Minx reply, "She could have been a dozen people, with a computer that makes holograms."

"That would be hard to pull off, even now." Rapture pointed out. "But in the Eighties? Impossible."

I turned and face the screen again. "Minx, you don't have any proof of what you're saying-"

"I know Techrat wouldn't be looking into this if there wasn't something there! And where Techrat is, you're bound to find Eric too!"

I faced Minx's image and reasserted my authority. "I've had enough of this. You have nothing but absurd theories. This conversation is over."

Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits. I braced myself for an explosion.

"Fine! If you won't listen, then I'll get some proof! And Rapture will help me!"

I turned to Rapture, who had bolted up in her seat. "I will?" she asked.

"Certainly." Minx shot the camera a grin. "It's time the members of your silly group finally do something worthwhile."

"Minx," I announced, "If you want to chase at shadows, you and Rapture can discuss it on your own time. I've had enough of this for tonight!"

I heard Minx call out "Riot, please-" as I shut the screen off.

For the next two hours, I paced the room. Minx's words kept coming back to me. Her utterly foolish words.

Jem was perfection. Her charm and vivacity animated every room she entered. Every day, I yearn for the simple sweetness of her heart which she once brought into my life.

She had been everything Jerrica Benton could never be.

 _She was so quiet._

I filled a rocks tumbler to the brim with scotch. I took drink after drink as I tried to forget the memory that kept coming into my head.

 _Always so quiet._

I watched television. I put on some music. I even read some fan letters for once. Nothing could stop the memory.

 _When they were together, she never spoke._

The memories you don't want are the ones that refuse to go away. The memories that give doubts.

 _Jerrica wouldn't shut up when I was alone with her, but anytime I saw her with Jem, she never spoke._

I don't like doubts.

 _I never paid Jerrica any attention when Jem was around. Would I have even noticed if she was only a projection?_

I tried to bring the other memories to the surface: The first time I saw her, on stage at the Rock Hard Café; our first kiss, at the wind harp; the night we danced on the cruise ship to Mexico; the first time we made love, in our island paradise; the first time she told me she loved me, when I almost got on a plane and parted from her for good; the last time I saw her, when I dropped her off at the Starlight Mansion and kissed her goodbye.

Jem was _real_ , as real as myself.

Even though she never told me where she was from, or if she still had family, or what she did before she joined the Holograms.

She never told me her real name.

With unsteady steps, I paced, and paced, and paced.

This was not true.

This could not be true.

I could not _let_ this be true.


	5. Interlude One

Interlude

Once upon a time, there was a very stupid girl who thought she knew how to run a record company. Since playing mommy to a bevy of crack babies didn't fill all her time, one day she decided she could manage a company she knew nothing about better than the talented and fully-trained businessman her father had hired before he died.

When her woeful lack of ability for the job was explained to her, she erupted in an infantile tantrum and devoted herself, her clueless band of toadies, and her abusive imbecile of a boyfriend to the ask of seizing control of the company from its rightful owner.

Since he was dealing with a child, the handsome music executive chose to treat her like one: "Sure, let's have a contest. Winner gets all the marbles!"

It was all a game, but the stupid bitch took it seriously. No sense of humor in her at all.

Unfortunately, the three witches in the businessman's employ were utterly untrustworthy and undependable. Thanks to their idiocy, the spoiled little heiress won control of the company, and made the great businessman look stupid.

I'll never forget it.

Sure, there have been occasional bright spots over the years: destroying her mother's recordings; seeing her biggest star prove herself to be the flake everyone knew she was, and vanish; watching her sister throw up on herself at Spago.

Best of all was seeing her purple-haired lapdog ramming his tongue down Jem's face in public, and finally tossing his dead weight aside.

I admit, it gives me great pleasure to know she's sleeping alone in her ill-gotten mansion, her withered pussy covered in cobwebs.

She had her chance with a real man.

Still, it's not the same as being able to humiliate her in public. After all these years, that sweet revenge has been denied me.

Until tonight.

Tonight, I learned the truth about Jerrica Benton.

When I'm done with her, she'll learn once and for all: Eric Raymond doesn't bluff.

Because, you see, once I learned the truth, I realized humiliating her isn't enough. Not after everything she and her dear dead daddy's little computer friend put me through.

Not nearly enough.

She's going to die.


	6. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

"Ok, Lizzie, we're gonna test the levels now!"

Lizzie Hudson glared at me from the stage in the middle of the Staples Center. "I hope you've got the Auto-Tune fixed, Rio!"

I leaned over to my assistants, Scott and Annabeth, and grumbled, "I hope I do too, for the sake of everyone's ears."

I'd been hired to help set up the sound system for the start of her new tour, thanks to my expertise with Auto-Tune.

That's a fact I'm not always proud of.

Lizzie launched into her first song. I directed Annabeth to raise the bass levels as Lizzie shrieked into my headphones.

I wanted to lean over and tell my colleagues something like, "Remember when singers had to be able to _sing_?"

But then I remembered: they're twenty years younger than me.

Their only memories of Jem would have been half-remembered songs heard between cartoons and recess.

I lowered the faders to every speaker in the place except Lizzie's own foldbacks, and buried her voice as much as I could get away with.

Scott gave me a thumbs up. "Man, she sounds great tonight, and she looks fine as hell!"

I gave him a half-hearted nod and tried to remember when exactly I became an old fogey.

Was it the previous May, when my daughter graduated high school?

Or maybe it was when I was forty, when Robin and I split up.

Perhaps it was several years earlier, when Gemma was born: becoming a dad can't help but make you feel older.

Or, just maybe, it was a few years before _that_ , when I found I couldn't get through a single conversation with Jerrica without it turning into an argument.

I can't deny I already felt old back then.

As Lizzie screamed into her mic, my eyes drifted away from the stage to a film crew roaming around the aisles in the nearly empty arena-filming the soundcheck for a documentary, I assumed.

 _After all, her singing is_ so _riveting!_ I thought.

As the song ground to a halt, I called to the stage, "Ok, I think we've got it!"

"Thank God!" Lizzie declared. "I work too damn hard!"

As her handlers escorted her from the stage, I heard someone call out, "All right, that's a wrap for now!"

I knew that voice.

"Annabeth," I told the young engineer to my left, "finish things up here for me."

I tried rushing out of the booth and soon found myself winded, so instead I walked past several security guards and called out to the woman with headphones over her long, curly blonde hair, "Hey, Video! Over here!"

Video Montgomery gave me an annoyed frown for a moment before she recognized me, and switched to a grin. "Rio?" She slipped off her headphones and added, "I didn't know you were working this show!"

"I could say the same." We moved away from the rest of the crowd so we could hear each other better. "Shooting a new video?"

She sighed. "I wish. I think it's been five—no, six years since I've done a music video. I heard Lizzie Hudson was hiring someone to do some second-unit work on her new dvd, and I figured a job's a job."

"Yeah," I told her, "I know what you mean." I glanced back over at the stage: for a moment, I imagined Jem and the Holograms up there. "It's not like the old days, is it?"

"Thinking about Jem?" Video put her hand on my shoulder.

"Ever since I heard the news about the Hall of Fame yesterday, well, I've been thinking a lot about Jem…and Jerrica."

When I was younger, the only thing more difficult than the nights I spent lying awake wishing Jerrica could be more like Jem were the nights I spent lying awake wishing Jem could be more like Jerrica.

Video gave me a smile. "You know, I'm going to the party at Starlight Mansion tomorrow night. You should come."

I nearly agreed to. "Nah…it's Jerrica's moment, and the Holograms'. I don't want to distract from that."

Video leaned against of one the arena's seats and folded her arms. "It's your moment too. You were an important part of Starlight Music." She cocked her eyebrow and added, "Besides, it's a safe bet Jem won't be there."

I thought back to the day when I finally confessed the truth to Jerrica: I had done more than just escort Jem to galas and premieres.

Much more.

Idiotic me. I let myself get swept up in all of Jem's glory and fame, like a star-struck little kid. (A mistake I took to heart in all my later dealings with singers and actresses; my ex, Robin, is a commercial pilot, and can't sing a note).

That day, for once, there were no angry words between Jerrica and me. She hardly said anything.

I wanted her to scream at me; I wanted to be told how awful I'd been.

The worst part was seeing how little it seemed to matter to her.

We ended with a whimper. Over the next couple months, we saw each other less and less. In fact, hardly anyone saw Jerrica for a while.

So, I decided to do the right thing: I quit Starlight Music and moved on, so she could come back out of hiding without worrying about running into me.

It was the least I could do.

"I really don't think it's a good idea," I told Video.

She drooped her head a little. She moved to give me a hug, and told me, "I hope you'll reconsider."

I shook my head. "Maybe; I don't know."

"Hey!" I heard a shout over the P.A. "Someone gonna check my levels?!"

Lizzie Hudson tapped her foot on the stage and twirled her mic in her hand.

"We just-!" I pinched the skin between my eyes. "Looks like I've got work to do."

I waved goodbye to Video as I rushed back to the booth to earn the extra day's pay I'd charged Lizzie's management.

* * *

"Would you like something to drink, ma'am?"

I bit my lip and pushed my sunglasses up the bridge of my nose. I dug my fingernails into the armrest.

 _For the love of God, yes, I want a drink!_

I forced out the words: "Just water for me, thanks."

The flight attendant gave me a nod and a smile before he moved to the next aisle.

I woke up that morning with a splitting headache, and it was nearly eleven before I finally checked my answering machine and heard Aja's message: "Kimber, I don't know if you've heard the news, but we got in! Jerrica just called and told me we've been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame! Congrats! Call me back when you can. Call Jerrica too…she misses you. Love you."

I dragged myself to the bathroom and spent the next half hour brushing the tangles out of my hair.

With every stroke, I built up my resolve. Call them back? I could do much more than that!

A hall of famer does much more than just call.

A hall of famer makes a grand entrance!

I spent the rest of the afternoon making sure everything was just right before I headed to Boston for the flight I'd just booked: I made sure my make-up and nails were perfect; I ironed out every crease in my sexiest black and red dress; I applied Visine every hour or so to chase the red from my tired eyes.

A hall of famer's got to look like a million bucks.

I became so focused, I didn't bother to answer when Aja called back, or when Stormer called to offer her congratulations (I reminded to myself to return the favor in person, after I saw Jerrica), or when Sara called back to ask if I was ok.

I was better than ok.

I was a hall of famer.

The flight attendant handed me my glass of water. "Can I get you anything else?"

My hand shook as I held the glass to my lips. I took a sip and placed on that little fold-out tray on the back of the seat in front of me.

"Do you have bourbon?" I asked him.

He placed his hands together and grinned. "Yes, we do."

"Glass of bourbon…neat."

Later, as we flew over wheat fields, and I savored the warm embrace of my drink, I thought of the latest fact I'd learned on my first day as a hall of famer.

Hall of famers aren't any stronger than anyone else.

* * *

"Aren't you ever gonna wake up, Stormer?!"

I screamed when I woke to find Pizzazz leaning over me. "Wha-? What are you doing?!"

She smirked at me. "Good, you're _finally_ up! It's nearly 11:00! Come on, we've got work to do."

I rubbed the crud from my eyes and tried to focus on her. "What are you talking about?"

Pizzazz was dressed for business in her own unique way: a black jacket, a white blouse, and a zebra-striped skirt. Her white cat-eye reading glasses were perched on the end of her nose as she arched her eyebrow at me. "I'm talking about getting our revenge on those pricks who kept us out of the Hall of Fame!"

"But there's still next year," I sighed, as I propped myself into a sitting position. "Do you wanna screw us out of _ever_ getting voted in?"

She pressed her fists against her hips. "What's it matter now? Even if they put us in next year, they put Jem in first!" She leaned in until I could feel her breath on my nose. "They can never make this right!"

I shook my head. "Pizzazz, I don't know…"

"Oh, and I had Chef make blueberry pancakes."

I thought it over for a few seconds. "Well, ok, I'll be down in a minute."

Pizzazz smiled in triumph.

She knows my weaknesses.

A few minutes later, after checking my phone, I wrapped up in a plush purple robe I found in the closet, placed a fresh daisy in my hair, and hobbled down the stairs on my sore foot. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, the aroma of blueberries and syrup wafted into my nose, and the frustration of the night before began to dissipate as I licked my lips in anticipation.

Just then, I heard a noise from the nearby living room. I called out, "Pizzazz?" but no one answered. I turned towards the kitchen again, when I heard a groan from the same room.

I stepped to the door and asked, "Matilda, are you in there?"

I heard a voice from inside moan, "Sod off."

"Jetta?" I pushed open the door and found our old saxophonist lying on one of the sofas, with her jacket wedged under her head as a makeshift pillow.

She lifted her head and glanced at me for a moment. "Close your dressing gown, luv—I can see your knickers."

I cinched the little cotton belt on my robe and squatted next to her. "When did you get here? Does Pizzazz know you're here? Have you..." Her puffy eyes told me all I needed to know. "I guess you heard."

She rolled over and faced the cushions. "I arrived at four in the morning, but no one was awake."

"How'd you get inside?"

She reached into her hair, pulled out one of her hairpins, and held it aloft, without a word.

I smiled. Jetta's still Jetta.

"Yesterday was just a complete dog's dinner," she said, "and I spent 'alf the night just driving. I didn't want to go 'ome. Finally, I thought I'd come 'ere."

I stroked her hair, just enough so that she wouldn't stop me. "Yeah, I think all of us had a bad day yesterday."

She snorted. "You don't know the 'alf of it, ducky!" She bolted upright and buried her head in her hands. "Blimey, I'm such a fool."

I started to get the sense there was more going on here than just the snub we'd received. "You wanna talk about it?"

She chuckled and held out her hand. "I see you 'aven't met me yet. Name's Jetta—charmed, I'm sure!"

I shook her hand and blushed. "Nice to meet you."

I knew by now, some things with my old bandmates would never change, no matter how much I wanted them to.

"Well," I told her, "there's blueberry pancakes in the kitchen, if you're hungry. I know I am."

She shrugged. "I'd rather not." She lay down again and turned her back to me.

As I stepped to the door, she called out, "But let me know if they can do beans on toast, ok?"

"Sure thing," I assured her.

She gave me a half-hearted wave as I closed the door.

As I turned toward the kitchen, I felt my phone vibrate in the pocket of my robe. I hurried to answer it when I read the caller's name. "Roxy, where have you been?! I've been worried!"

She didn't say anything for a moment, before I heard, "Kingman's in Arizona, right?"

I bit my lip as I thought. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

"My car broke down, and I think the sign says I'm fifteen miles from Kingman." She paused then added, "Can you come get me, Stormer? This place is the middle of fuckin' nowhere!"

I rubbed my sore butt and grimaced at the prospect of a day full of driving. "Of course I can. It'll be a few hours before I can get there."

The voice behind me was sharp and to the point. "Where is she?"

I turned to face Pizzazz, who motioned for me to hurry up.

"She's in Arizona, near Kingman."

She gestured for me to give her the phone, and snatched it from me when I didn't move fast enough. "Roxy," she announced once she put the phone to her ear, "stay where you're at. I'm sending one of Daddy's helicopters to pick you up." With that, Pizzazz hung up the phone and handed it back to me. "Breakfast is getting cold." She turned on her heels and marched back to the kitchen.

For a moment, I weighed my options. Then I picked up the scent of breakfast again, and I knew there was no room for debate.

* * *

As I left Customs at LAX and headed towards the baggage carousel, I heard a woman shout out, "Dance! Dance!"

It was only when I turned and saw Kimber Benton running towards me that I realized she was calling out my nickname.

"Danse! Hey, Danse, what are doing here?!" She bumped past a young mother with a toddler and stopped to excuse herself, then repeated the exercise with an old man moments later.

She didn't look very steady. I braced myself. "Kimber, I could ask you the same thing!"

She flung her arms around me. "Didn't you hear the news?"

Her breath was strong, and I tried to step back without her noticing. "Yes, I heard last night. I'm so happy for all of you."

I felt inside my jacket to make sure the lock of hair was still in place.

Kimber smiled, but her gaze couldn't be further away. "Yeah, it's…it's so outrageous." She patted my shoulders. "Did you fly in straight from Lub…Lub…from Slovenia?"

I chuckled. "I took a flight from Ljubljana to Rome, and then from there to here." I spend about half my time in my father's homeland, where I work as a director at the Slovenian National Ballet.

"Wow, you must be exhausted." She giggled as she added, "I flew in from Boston, and I'm pooped!" I felt her pull down on my arms as her knees began to buckle, so I helped prop her up.

"Kimber, do you have a car waiting for you?"

Her head drooped. "I didn't think to order one. I was in a hurry. I…I wanted to surprise Jerrica." I heard her mutter, "Stupid!" under her breath.

"Hey, I can give you a ride, ok? Let's go get our bags."

Over the next several minutes, as Kimber hummed her way through several Holograms songs (she hummed "When it's Only Me and the Music" twice, because she remembered how much I liked it), I gathered up all our bags, and led us to the rental car kiosk.

Before long, we were cruising down the freeway in the BMW I'd rented. Kimber put her head against the window. "I'm not feeling well."

"Where are you staying tonight?"

She perked up. "Damn it!" She let out a much-too-long laugh. "I didn't plan this very well, did I?"

I thought of the most diplomatic thing I could say. "Everyone has bad days."

Kimber tapped her fingernails against the dashboard. "Mine seem to be all bunched up, lately."

I reached across the gear shift and took her hand. "Well, you can stay at my place tonight, ok?"

She shrugged, and said nothing. In a few minutes, I heard her snoring.

I reached inside my jacket again, to check that the lock of hair was still there.

My father asked me to clip it from his scalp the day he died.

He told me to give it to my mother when I find her.

I kept it next to my heart, always.

* * *

The floodlights illuminated the helipad as Daddy's helicopter eased to a landing.

I glanced over my shoulder at Stormer and Jetta. They were impressed, of course.

"Bloody 'ell, Pizzazz, I don't remember that one!"

I had to laugh—she'd missed so much. "Daddy bought a whole new fleet not long before he became ill. That one's my personal chopper."

"It's really nice," Stormer declared.

"Of course it is," I told her. "It's mine."

Before the blades slowed to a stop, Roxy jumped out and ran across the tarmac to us. "Damn!" she shouted. "I thought I was gonna starve to death out in the desert, or something!"

Stormer gave her a hug, and Roxy stood there and took it.

 _They've gone soft without me. This could be trouble._

"Ok, enough of that," I announced. "Now that we're all here, we can get to work!"

As we started the walk back to the mansion, Stormer did her pouty lip routine. "Pizzazz, I still don't know what good it would do to get revenge.

Roxy piped up, "They told us we're crap, Stormer! Are you just gonna take that lyin' down?"

"Made us look like bloomin' fools, they did," Jetta added with a sigh.

"And if there's one thing we're not, it's fools," I told them. "We were the greatest band of our generation, and the only motivation they could have had was to piss us off!"

"Well, they succeeded!" Roxy shouted.

"Guys, I don't know if this is a good idea," Stormer whined.

"Well," Jetta reasoned. "It won't 'urt just to talk about 'ow we might get even with the blighters."

"Looks like you finally grew some brains, Brit!"

"Really not in the mood tonight, Rox," Jetta snarled.

"Enough you two," I sighed. I turned to Stormer and put my hands on her shoulders. "Can you really stand for this kind of insult? This kind of…abuse?"

I do what I have to do.

Stormer shook her head. "Well, maybe we can at least make sure they know how we feel."

I gave her my sweetest smile. "That's exactly what I'm proposing—letting them know how we feel." I beckoned them forward. "Come on, let's get to work."

They followed me in lockstep to the mansion, as if the last dozen years had never happened.

 _I still got it._

* * *

The gravel crunched under my Bruno Maglis as I approached the dilapidated igloo-shaped shack.

I approached the door and gave it a quick rap. "Don't jerk me around tonight!" I shouted. "Answer your door!"

I began to turn to leave, when I felt a sharp pinprick in my leg. I looked down to see a large needle retract into the door.

Moments later, a synthesized voice announced, "DNA match confirmed." The front door opened with a flourish.

I poked my head in, straightened my tie, and stepped inside. "Techrat, this had better be good. Your nonsense got old years ago."

"I assure you, my gadgets are never nonsense—this one new one least of all!" His voice had erupted suddenly; I scanned the shadowy room in vain for him.

"I didn't come here to play hide and seek. Make it quick."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Techrat emerge from the shadows. His hair, still jet black, drooped over his right eye. He wore a dark suit, much like mine, except with yellow pinstripes and a matching bow tie. His eyes looked crazed—even by his standards.

"I'm not playing at all," he hissed. "I have information you're going to find very valuable."

I laughed. "I've heard that before." I picked up a small box with blinking lights and tried to figure out what it could possibly be.

"I've discovered something incredible, Eric."

I ran my finger along a dusty tabletop. "Not a maid, from the looks of it."

"Eric," he whispered. "What do you know about holography?"

I shrugged as I leaned against the table. "So, instead of hide and seek, it's twenty questions, eh? Well, they're little 3-d pictures, and they use them to foil concert ticket counterfeiters. What do I win?"

He grinned. "Holography is far more than that. A sufficiently advanced holographic projector could create an image so lifelike, that to the naked eye it would be indistinguishable from a real person."

I tapped my finger against my chin. "That's actually _interesting_. Imagine something like that on stage: any manager with access to that kind of technology would have a leg up on the rest of the music industry. Good thinking; I might finally make you a rich man, after all."

He gave me a smile so broad, I couldn't begin to penetrate its meaning. "Eric, someone already has access to that kind of technology. It was developed thirty years ago."

"What are you talking about?"

Techrat stepped next to a large computer mainframe. "Over the last several years, I've been piecing the facts together. Thanks to my brilliantly advanced computers, I was able to track down the tiny pieces of information: an order form here, a patent application there. Next to you on the desk is all the proof I've obtained."

I reached over to the nearby desk and picked up a bulging manila envelope. Scrawled across the front was a name I see in my mind every day. A name that stands for betrayal, humiliation, and everything I hate: "BENTON."

"In the early 1980's," Techrat explained, "Emmett Benton developed the most advanced holographic generator ever seen. For whatever reason, he tried to keep it secret…but nothing remains a secret forever."

I flipped through page after page of order forms, scattered notes, and other marginalia written by my old employer Emmett and his feckless daughter Jerrica. None of it looked very impressive, until I saw a photograph of a strange piece of tubular framework.

"I've seen this before...I know I have!" I told him, as I held up the photo.

"It's an undated photograph of Emmett Benton's unfinished machine, found in the archives of Starlight Music."

I grinned: I must have taken it along with all the other boxes I seized when Jerrica stole my company out from under me.

Then it hit me. "The detective, Malone. He took a photograph of a machine Jerrica Benton had in her possession, right after Emmett died. It was this thing here!"

"The holographic projector." Techrat folded his arms as he paced in the shadows. "It appears he called it 'Synergy.' And Jerrica Benton used it extensively after his death."

I wiped my own fingerprints from the photo and gave it a closer look. "But what could she have possibly wanted with it back then?"

Then, I heard the voice behind me. "I can answer that for you, Eric."

The shock was so great, I crushed the photo in my hands.

I spun on my heels and nearly collapsed when I saw her.

Her long pink hair reached well past her shoulders. Her violet eyes sparkled. Her perfect teeth gleamed at me like a Super Trouper.

Jem hadn't aged a day.

"Surprised to see me again, Eric?" she asked, with a giggle.

It took a moment to catch my breath. "Where have you been?"

"When Emmett Benton died, Jerrica needed something special to win Starlight Music away from you. That's when she created me. She used me as a disguise." She laughed and added, "She fooled you all! I never existed!"

"I saw them together, several times. I-" I reached out to grab her arms, and shut her mouth.

I passed right through her.

Her laughter filled the Rathole.

"What the hell's going on, Techrat?!"

"He's not very bright, is he?" Jem snorted.

Techrat walked next to Jem and called out, "End the charade, Obstructor!" With that, Jem vanished.

"All right," I demanded, "You're gonna tell me how you did all that."

He approached me and looked into my eyes. "I did it the same way Emmett and Jerrica Benton did. You see, once I understood _what_ he accomplished, it wasn't too hard to figure out _how_."

"But, that means…" I tried to wrap my head around it all. "That means Jem never existed? That she was just an illusion, just a…" I laughed when I realized how stupid I'd been. "Just a hologram?"

The little bitch had fooled the entire world.

"She wasn't _real_." I told myself out loud. "It's crazy. Who would ever believe it? I mean, how you can talk to a person and not realize they're just a hologram?"

Techrat smiled at me and blinked his weaselly little eyes. "Like you've been doing? End the charade, Obstructor!"

As Jem had done, he vanished.

"Neat trick, isn't it, Eric?" Techrat, looking much the same as he had a moment earlier, except wearing a blue bow tie, emerged from behind the side door. "Come in here and see how I did it."

I admit, this evening had taken an unexpected turn.

I followed him into his lab. On one side of the room, a large computer stood, with pulsating lights belching forth at steady intervals.

Techrat caressed his keyboard. "Beautiful, isn't she?"

I felt myself surrounded by its power and energy. I didn't like it. "She?"

"Obstructor," he commanded. "Introduce yourself!"

On the large monitor in the center of the machine, the face of a woman appeared. Beautiful, except with greenish skin and crayon yellow hair. "I am Obstructor," the computer announced, in a digitized German accent, "the world's most sophisticated audiovisual holographic synthesizer."

"Still hung up on Minx, kid?" I laughed. "She's still way out of your league, I'm afraid."

I gave him a quick pat on the back, and got the "Don't touch me!" I had expected.

"Jem was never real," I marveled. "No wonder. Jerrica could never have beaten me playing fair!"

"Emmett Benton was a genius," Techrat said, "but I am even more brilliant. Obstructor is twice as powerful, and can create far more sophisticated projections." He pointed at me and shouted, "Begin the game, Obstructor!"

I saw a shape peek out of my collar. Then another, and another.

Soon, I saw them burst through my collar and cuffs by the dozens—snakes, flashing their fangs at me, digging them into my skin—

"Help! Somebody, help me!" I screamed. "I'm gonna die!"

"End the charade, Obstructor."

"As you wish, my dear," the computer cooed.

The snakes vanished, and I collapsed to the floor.

"Amazing, isn't she?" Techrat gushed.

As I struggled to catch my breath, I grabbed him by the leg. "Don't ever do that again!"

"Don't touch me!"

I pulled myself to my feet. "Very impressive," I gasped.

I hadn't realized he was capable of a shit-eating grin.

"With this thing," I told him, as I caught my breath, "we could be rich beyond our wildest dreams."

Techrat folded his arms. "We?"

I had to smile. The kid had learned.

"With my business acumen," I explained, "I can use this machine to make us a fortune. You'll be able to build all the gadgets you want for the rest of your life."

He ran his fingertips along the computer. "I like the sound of that."

"But first, you and that pile of lights and circuits are going to help me get my revenge on Jerrica Benton!"

Techrat tapped another manila folder. "I'm prepared for that possibility. You see, with Obstructor here, it'll be possible for someone to pose as Jem, just as Jerrica Benton did."

I sighed. This guy never quite made sense. "Wait…you said she did it all with holograms."

"Yes, but holograms have no solidity to them, as you just saw. But, if she wore _these_ …" He pulled out a pair of ugly, star-shaped earrings and handed them to me.

"What are they?" I asked.

"Miniature holographic projectors. If she wore earrings like these, her computer would have been able to clothe her body with the Jem hologram."

I thought back to a strange moment, years earlier. "Once, the Misfits stole her earrings from her. She missed a concert because of it."

Techrat shrugged. "You see?"

I fondled the earrings in my fingers. "Jerrica, I underestimated you." I looked up at my genius employee. "But she's underestimated _me_. I'm going to find someone to wear these and pose as Jem. We'll see how long it takes before Jerrica's secrets are exposed to the world."

I'm damn good at what I do.

He handed me the folder. "With Obstructor's help, I've tracked down the name of a special operative who'd be perfect for the job."

I glanced at the contents. Inside was a classified dossier of a wanted terrorist: an ex-Cobra, with ties to al-Qaeda, ETA, Islamic Jihad, Aum Shinrikyo, and others. "This might be overkill," I informed him.

"Check out the photograph," he suggested.

I turned to blown up crowd shot, in what appeared to be the Middle East, but could have been just about anywhere. The woman in the middle of the picture was blonde, thin, and in her forties. Other than her relative affluence compared to the rest of the crowd, nothing about her seemed remarkable.

Until I saw her wrists.

She wore bracelets with tiny cymbals on them.

"Find her," I told him.

Techrat smiled. "Remember—you were never here."

I laughed, as I patted his shoulders. He recoiled.

"Techrat, I'm going to make Jerrica Benton wish she'd never been born. She's going to be begging me for mercy!"

Silently, I promised myself she wouldn't receive any.


	7. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

"I think I can whip up a cake or two, and of course I can handle the hors d'oeuvres."

Mrs. Bailey's eyes twinkled as she held up a crab puff. I opened wide, as I would have when I was a girl, and let her pop the pastry in.

"Mmm, delicious," I told her, my mouth full. "But Ashley and I will be here to give you plenty of help."

She laughed as she lit the stove. "Oh, Jerrica, I may be old, but I'm not an invalid yet! Besides, the dinner is for you and the Holograms. You shouldn't work too hard." She turned to me and patted my cheek, before she added, with a sigh, "it's just a shame Jem won't be here."

I swallowed hard. "I did send her a message, informing her of the news. It's up to her if she wants to be involved with the ceremony at all."

Mrs. Bailey turned back to the lasagna she was making for the Starlight girls, and asked, "Isn't it sad, all the pressure the poor girl was under? I can't imagine what it must have been like, with the public wanting something from her every hour of the day. I guess I understand why she went into hiding."

I watched as she chopped mushrooms and sprinkled them onto the pan. "Yes, I know it was very hard for her…"

* * *

That final day, Riot and Jem—Riot and _I_ parked in front of Starlight Mansion on our way back from the airport.

The flight back home had been quiet, and the car ride hadn't exactly been a gabfest either.

"We're here," he announced.

"Ok."

He turned to me, his green eyes limpid and inviting. "If you want to talk, this would be a good time. I'm all ears, Jem."

I gave him a small smile. "That's nothing new. You're always willing to listen."

"I know," he grinned. "Am I not the perfect boyfriend?"

I laughed at his playful boast and told him, "I suppose so, but…"

"But?"

I looked out the window and watched as Ashley and Deidre helped Mrs. Bailey escort the rest of the girls into the van. "That's strange," I said, "where are they all going on a school night?"

I heard Riot chuckle. "I'm sure Jerrica knows what she's doing. Anyway, I know you like to help out, but the girls aren't reallyyour responsibility."

I rested my hands against the folds of my blue and gold striped skirt which lay under a fuchsia hologram, and told him, "I wish I could tell you everything."

"Then tell me." He reached over and ran his finger along my chin, long enough to make me turn my head and face him.

"Riot, I-"

"Yes?" He gave me a smile. I wanted to tell him everything. For a moment, I was filled with the urge to do whatever I could to make him happy.

I looked away from him and focused on Jem's reflection the passenger side mirror of his Bentley instead. "I just can't tell you."

"Can't, or won't?"

Riot was never one to resist a confrontation.

"Neither," I told him.

He ran his hands across the steering wheel. "These secrets you have: do the Holograms know them?"

I wanted to tell him no. I didn't want to risk him pressuring them for information—especially Kimber.

But I couldn't lie to him. "Yes, they know."

"Indeed," he replied, without a trace of emotion. "And Jerrica?"

"Yes, she knows too."

See? I told him the truth.

I turned to see Riot furrowing his brow. I wanted to tell him how much happier he might be if he didn't _think_ so much.

That's what I kept trying to tell myself, after all.

"So, you don't trust me, then?" The eyes that had been so inviting moments earlier now burned into me like green lasers.

"It's not like that, really."

He rubbed his chin. "Then, what is it 'like'?"

I tried to think of a suitable reply as I watched the van pull out of the driveway. "Someday, I might be able to tell you the whole story. If I do, you'll understand why I waited."

He ran his fingers through his dazzling blonde mane. His lips curled into a small grin. "All right. I'm a patient man. I can wait…as long as you answer two questions."

"What are they?"

He took my hand and caressed the knuckle of my index finger with his thumb. "First, I need to know, is your life in danger because of all these secrets?"

I thought of his bandmates, especially that conniver, Rapture. "Not really—but if my secret was revealed, there's the potential for great harm to many people."

I'd already met more than my share of people who would happily cause chaos with technology like Synergy's.

"I worry about you, you know," he told me.

I smiled. "I'm a big girl, Riot. Nobody around me seems to believe it these days, but I really can take care of myself."

"Perhaps, but if you're in danger, you know no one will be able to protect you as well as I." He kissed my hand, and I almost broke down and told him everything.

Almost.

"What was the other question?" I asked.

He chuckled softly. "Does Rio know the truth?"

"No," I told him. "Just Jerrica and the Holograms."

His laughter wasn't all that loud, but it echoed through the car. "That pleases me immensely!" He reached across the seat, took me in his arms, and kissed me until my lips were sore.

* * *

That day, I stepped into the foyer lightheaded and hopeful that maybe, just maybe, things could stay as they had been for a little longer.

Then I entered the living room and met Aja's eyes.

"We need to talk."

I told her I was tired.

Only then did I notice Shana and Raya were with her.

I asked them what was going on.

Kimber emerged from behind me. "This can't wait, Jerrica."

I corrected her, "That's Jem," and I sealed Jem's fate.

"This has gone too far," Aja declared.

"We're worried about you," Raya added.

Shana moved towards me. I backed away. "It's just me," she told me. "We want to help you, Jerrica."

Without thinking, I corrected her too.

Aja scowled.

"Sis?" Kimber put her hand on my shoulder. I fought the urge to jerk away from her. "You just haven't been yourself lately. We all think you need a break."

I asked what I could possibly need a break from.

"From Jem," Aja told me, her voice cold and firm.

The words didn't make sense to me. How could I take a break from myself?

I told them I was too tired to deal with this, and turned to leave.

Kimber slammed the door shut before I could reach it.

I told them this wasn't funny.

No one laughed.

I demanded to know what had gotten into them.

Aja folded her arms and spoke calmly: "When was the last time you were Jerrica?"

I couldn't remember.

"I haven't seen Jerrica in over a month," Shana added.

I couldn't figure out why there were so upset. Wasn't Jerrica a stick in the mud? Wasn't Jerrica a busybody? Wasn't Jerrica bland and boring, compared to Jem?

Jem was excitement.

Kimber, as emotional as always, was the first to cry. "I miss my sister," she blurted out, between sniffles.

I nearly ended the show then and there—but I didn't.

I couldn't.

"We all miss her," Raya declared.

"And the Starlight girls need you, Jerrica," Aja announced, as she walked up to me and looked straight into my eyes. "Emmett and Jacqui would be so disappointed to know how you've neglected them lately."

I reached up to my earring and gave it a tap. "I need to throw a little light on the situation, Synergy!"

 _As you wish._

I closed my eyes and covered them with my forearm, as a blinding white light erupted from the Jemstar earrings.

I pushed past Kimber and raced to the door.

As soon as I grabbed the handle, I felt fingers grabbing my waist. Before I knew what happened, I smashed into the floor.

The light flooded my eyes, and I pleaded with Synergy to stop.

 _As you wish._

As the spots in front of my eyes faded away, I saw Aja standing over me, her arm extended. I took her hand and let her pull me to my feet.

I let them know how much they were overreacting. Spending my days as Jem couldn't hurt anyone.

Kimber folded her arms and pouted. "It's hurting Jerrica. It's like she doesn't even exist anymore."

I reminded them that Jem and Jerrica are the same person.

"Are they?" Aja asked in a monotone.

Somewhere, deep inside my mind, I—Jerrica—asked " _Are we?"_

I didn't know. I wasn't sure.

Frankly, I didn't care, and I told them so.

Shana put her hands on my shoulders. Softly, she asked, "Why do you hate being Jerrica?"

After all the years we'd been sisters, how could she not already know?

I brushed her aside as they all began asserting how much they loved me and were worried about me, and all the other expressions of sincere empathy that simply made me dig my heels in.

This was no big deal.

I told them that, again and again.

They didn't want to listen. They'd already made up their minds.

Aja, my judge, turned to the others and shook her head. "She won't listen to us. This has to end."

"We love Jem," Shana added, "but she's not real. This isn't who you really are. Please, give Jerrica back to us."

I turned away from them.

 _They're being drama queens,_ I told myself.

I finally told them the words I'd wanted to say for months—words that had been in the back of my mind since I first stood on stage with the Holograms.

"I'm just as real as Jerrica. No matter what you think, I have every right to exist. If you don't like it, that's your problem."

Kimber grabbed me and spun me around. "You're my sister! You've always been Jerrica! Please, we need you back."

I pulled myself free from her and slapped her across the face.

I don't know how to forgive Jem for that.

I don't know how to forgive myself.

Aja moved towards me. I heard her say "Forgive me," before she tackled me to the floor.

I tried to call for Synergy, but Aja covered my mouth. She yelled for Raya to grab my legs.

Only at that moment did I realize what she'd planned.

She reached for my ear. I squirmed and shook my head—anything to keep her from touching the Jemstar earrings.

As she straddled my chest, I fought like hell to push her off, but she was just too strong.

Finally, she grabbed the left earring. I squirmed to pull away from her.

Then I felt the pain.

It jolted through every nerve of my body. I couldn't breathe any deeper than a hollow rattle.

In my last moments as Jem, I tried to jerk my right ear away from Aja. I smelled my own blood, and fainted.

* * *

I woke up in my room the next morning, myself once again, as Aja held my hand.

Shana and Raya sat at the foot of the bed.

Kimber stood next to the window. She cradled the shattered earrings in her hands, as she hummed "Something is Missing in My Life," over and over.

* * *

Mrs. Bailey sprinkled another layer of parmesan onto the lasagna. "If you don't mind me asking, have you heard back from Kimber yet?"

Her question jostled me back to the present. "Not yet. I left a message for her, but…"

"That poor girl," Mrs. Bailey sighed, as she diced an onion for the next layer.

I heard a voice behind us: "Mind if I lend a hand?" I turned to see Aja leaning against the door, with a wink in her eye.

"You're early!" I reached out to her and wrapped her up in a hug.

I felt her pat my back as she told me, "The boys are flirting with that new girl, Peyton, and Craig's standing around the foyer being bored."

I pulled her in tighter. "Aww, we better rescue him!" I stepped back for a moment and looked into her eyes.

"You ok, Jerrica?" she asked.

I nodded, but she saw right through me.

As she made her hellos to Mrs. Bailey, I ran my fingers along my ears and said a quiet "Thank you" to my sisters, who saved me from myself.

Including Kimber.

My own flesh.

My own bone.

 _This has gone too far,_ I told myself.

 _We have to save her._

 _I_ will _save her._

I need my sister back.


	8. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

There's something so tacky about owning a yacht in Monaco, but when you're as wealthy as I am, certain things are expected of you.

Things like my companion Oumaima, who lay on her stomach as she applied an extra layer of sunscreen to her golden brown buttocks. "Wonderful sun," she chirped, in her broken English, "for winter."

The warm sea air blew towards the harbor and whipped across the deck. "Remember," I told her, "make yourself scarce when my business associate arrives."

Oumaima nodded and sighed a cute little "Okey dokey."

I despise cute, and I marveled that she seemed to forget how easily she could be replaced.

It was then I heard the motorboat pull aside us, followed by a contemptuous " _Allons_!" shouted to the pilot. Moments later, my guest pulled himself onto the deck, his blonde wig askew.

"I have arrived," Riot declared, as if I couldn't see.

I gestured to the deckchair opposite mine. "You're late."

He stopped to give my mistress a once over. "I know what a pleasure it is for you to see me. The feeling is mutual," he informed Oumaima, as he gave her a wink.

She smirked and turned over, giving him an unobstructed view of her pert nipples.

" _Imshi!_ " I commanded. Oumaima took the hint, grabbed her robe, and sauntered below deck with a goodbye wave.

Riot grinned like a moron and chuckled. "If she came with the boat, I might have to break down and spend my winters here!"

I again gestured for him to sit down. "Are you here to talk business, or not?"

Riot slumped into the seat and stared at me. "I'm always ready to discuss business, Marvin."

I clenched my armrests when I heard his impertinence. "That's good to know, _Llewellyn_."

Riot opened his arms and, more humbly, asked, "Why have you asked me here today, Mr. Lassiter?"

I took a sip of my La Mondotte and rolled it between my cheeks. "It seems you went out of your way to ensure the Misfits were left out of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame."

His cheeks blanched for a moment, before his bravado returned. "And what if we did? I didn't realize you were a fan."

"I don't give a damn about the Misfits. I'm just concerned about your little side projects when we have much more important work to do."

Riot sighed, with an indifference seemingly calculated to annoy me. "I assure you, Mr. Lassiter: nothing is more important than my plans involving the Hall of Fame."

This man was begging to be reminded of his place.

"Riot, I didn't get rich by making deals with people who put personal vendettas ahead of money. You and the Stingers convinced me with the elegance of your plans." I leaned forward and added. "Don't fuck around with me, or you'll regret it."

He grabbed my bottle without asking and poured himself a glass. "I intend nothing of the sort. With your backing, and the resources of TEM, we'll have a firm grip on the economies of Europe within the next two years. It is our destiny. And my 'personal vendetta,' as you put it, cannot possibly change that."

I tented my fingers and gave him a smile. "See that it doesn't; you don't want to make an enemy of me."

Riot leaned back and smiled at me as if I was some horny teenybopper. "Who said anything about enemies? We have much more to gain as friends."

I leaned back and pointed to the east, where the Grimaldi Palace stood on the hill which has been its location for centuries. "The Prince is my friend. The President of the United States is my friend. You, Riot, are a business associate."

His face drooped. "Yet we need each other, to make our plans come to fruition."

He had me there, so I said nothing.

He soon recovered his affable demeanor. "Mr. Lassiter, I'm accustomed to succeeding in whatever I put my mind to. This will be no different. With America beginning its slow decline, the second half of this century will be dominated by Europe and China."

"But we won't be alive to see that," I reminded him.

He downed the rest of his wine. "Speak for yourself."

He succeeded in coaxing a smile from me. I took a quick drink to hide it.

As sunset began to fall on the Mediterranean, we gazed out at the rows of yachts lining the harbor.

"Soon," Riot declared, "the world will be ours for the taking."

"And we _will_ take it!" I informed him.

Riot smiled and glanced back at the door to the lower decks. "She was quite beautiful. I think I'd like to see more of her."

I pointed to the dinghy tied to the yacht. "It's time you leave."

He pouted, as if I might take pity on him.

I knew he'd learn soon enough.

I don't share.

* * *

Hey, you know what it's like to have a maid bring you a fresh set of clothes and breakfast in bed?

Of course you don't! You're not rich, like the Misfits.

As I scarfed down my plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and cantaloupe, I remembered how kickass it feels to be in Pizzazz's mansion.

My own group had kept the checks coming in, but I could never afford a place like this. You know how much it costs to bring in someone to clean up a couple times a week?

And don't get me started on the rent: the rent is too damn high!

As I peeled the crust off my toast, I heard someone tapping at my door. "What do you want?!"

I heard Stormer say, "It's me. Can I come in?"

"Yeah. It's not locked," I called out.

Stormer came in, all dressed up and with her hair and makeup done, even though it was only one in the afternoon. A _Sunday_ afternoon. "Um, Pizzazz said she paid her dad's mechanic to drive out to Arizona and fix your car."

"Awesome!" I poured some more salt on my cantaloupe and took a bite. "This shit _rocks_! Try some."

She shook her head. "I ate breakfast already, and I should probably go on a diet."

"Diets are for chumps and poor people," I reminded her. Sometimes, it seems like she'll never learn.

Stormer looked down at her hands, as if they were made of gold, or something. "You ok, Roxy? I mean, after the news on Friday?"

She always wants to go there, to feelings and crap like that. "You know, I think Pizzazz's got the right idea. Moping around's not gonna make us feel better." I tossed my tray over the side of the bed and watched Stormer bolt to her feet when she heard the clattering of the silverware. "Sometimes, when people jerk you around, you just gotta get even!"

"And where does it all end, Roxy?" she asked, with a little groan.

I smiled. "It ends here." I stood and put my hands on her shoulders. "Right here. The four of us, back together, making sure the world never forgets The Misfits!"

Stormer reached up and lifted my hands from her. "I'm not a Misfit anymore," she told me, her voice firm.

"Then what're you doing here, huh?"

She didn't say anything. She just shrugged.

"See?" I told her. "You still care."

"Of course I do," she sighed. "It's just-"

"C'mon, let's go see what the others are up to." I tossed my robe on the bed, and Stormer covered her eyes, as if she'd never seen my tits before. (Of course, they're saggier than the last time she saw 'em, but it's not like hers aren't too!) I put on a clean blue top, brushed a few tangles out of my hair, and rushed out of the room.

When I noticed Stormer didn't follow me, I reached back in, grabbed her arm, and yelled, "Come on!" I pulled her down the hallway to the stairs.

* * *

I found Aja's husband Craig sitting on the couch in the living room and staring into space as two of our girls, Misty and Tonya, demonstrated a booty-shaking dance they'd copied from an OurTube video.

"And then it goes like this," Misty announced, as she put her hand on the back of her head and opened her mouth.

"No, no, no! You're doin' it wrong!" the older girl argued. Tonya placed her hand on the back of her head, kept her mouth closed, and launched into wild gyrations that soon reduced the girls to a giggle fit.

Craig tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling.

I'm no fan of human suffering, so I stepped in: "Why don't you girls help set things up in the dining room?"

"Do we have to?" Misty whined.

"Aren't we supposed to _entertain_ our guests?" Tonya inquired. I just know she's going to be a lawyer someday.

"Come on, girls, let's hustle!"

They didn't have to be told a third time. In moments, they giggled their way into the hall.

I took a seat on the armrest as Craig grinned. "Thanks, Ashley."

I shrugged. "Hey, now you owe me one."

He ran his hand through his mop of silver hair. "Anything you say. Hey, where's-?" He paused, clearly struggling to remember.

"Where's who?"

"You know." He turned red as he cupped his hands to his eyes to simulate glasses, and then stroked an imaginary beard.

"You mean Simon, _my husband_?" I folded my arms and gave him an exaggerated arched eyebrow.

Craig cleared his throat. "Well, sorry, I haven't met him too many times. Is he coming over?"

"No, he's flying out to Houston tonight-he's got a meeting with some new investors in the morning." I'd met Simon a dozen years earlier, and our tenth anniversary was coming up soon.

"Oh," Craig nodded. "Too bad. He seems like a good guy. I was hoping to see him."

I decided not to point out that a minute earlier, he didn't even know the man's name. "Too much estrogen in the mansion for you tonight?"

He laughed and gave a kneejerk, "No, no," before adding, "Well, it looks like me and my boys are gonna be the only guys here. I'd hoped Anthony at least would make it."

I laughed and asked, "Honestly, what do you and Anthony talk about when you guys together?"

He looked at the floor for a moment. "Well, he drives a really sweet Jag. You ever seen that thing?"

"What a deep, lasting basis for a friendship, Craig."

He leaned back and held out his arms. "It's a _really_ nice car, Ashley!"

The car discussion had already grown stale for me. "Aja must be so thrilled about the induction."

He beamed. "Definitely. If it wasn't for…" He seemed to search for the right words, before saying, "family stuff, you know. But other than that, she's walking on air."

"Awesome." But then, I noticed an odd droop in his expression. "Something wrong?"

He seemed to hem and haw for a moment. "It's just…my sister, Mary. I know she was really looking forward to getting into the Hall of Fame."

"Oh," I replied.

I don't like talking about the Misfits.

When I was young, Craig's sister Stormer and her buddies tricked me into thinking they were my friends, when they just wanted to use me to get back at Jerrica.

Still, that was a long time ago. I'm over all that now.

But the part where they locked me in a trunk? Yeah, I don't think I can ever forgive them for that.

I pleaded with Stormer to let me out.

I know she wanted to.

Her friends convinced her to leave me there.

That was a long time ago. Her brother's such a good guy, like part of the family. Aja loves her like a sister. She's one of Kimber's best friends.

But I could have died that day, because Stormer was such a coward.

The hell with her.

I soon realized Craig had kept talking, and I hadn't been listening.

"…I was able to get her on the phone, but she'd only talk for a couple minutes. She said she was staying at Pizzazz's! Can you believe that?"

"Huh," I replied.

"I don't know. I mean, Roxy's crazy, but she'd do anything for Mary. But Pizzazz? I just don't know."

As I tried to think of a different topic, Raya saved the day simply by entering the living room. "Hey, I hope I'm not late?"

We both stood and exchanged happy embraces with her. It had been months since I'd seen her in person, but it's always a pleasure to see her again.

"Congratulations!" I told her as we hugged.

"Oh, Jem was the real star," she said with a smile. "I was just the drummer."

Craig gave her a pat on the shoulder. "The _best_ drummer around, you mean?"

Raya blushed. "You're not so bad yourself, Craig."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I know."

Aja soon entered, having followed our laughter. "Hey, is my husband acting like a dickweed in here?"

"No more than usual," Raya replied with a wink.

I gave Craig a punch on the shoulder. "Burned!"

Craig rolled his eyes. "See, that's why I wish there were more guys here. You girls are just gonna gang up on me!"

Aja put an arm around him and patted his cheek, "Now, Craig, you know we discussed that, and I told you, you only get to have an orgy if I can have one too."

Craig blushed as Raya and I collapsed with laughter. Finally he kissed Aja on the cheek and told her, "Nah, you're more than enough woman for me."

She patted him on the head. "Smart answer, pal." She then turned to Raya and asked, "Can you come with me for a bit? Jerrica wanted to talk…business stuff."

Raya nodded. "Oh, ok." She turned to me. "It's always good to see you, Ashley."

I smiled. "You too."

"See you at dinner, Craig!" Raya gave us a wave as she and Aja headed into the hall.

As Craig got up to fix himself a drink, I slumped onto the sofa and rested my chin in my hands.

There's only one subject Jerrica discusses with the ex-Holograms that she doesn't at least keep me informed of.

Even when they talk about Kimber's problems, Jerrica asks for my advice and trusts me not to tell anyone.

The only time they get so damn secretive is when they talk about Jem.

Sometimes, I have to laugh, since they don't have to hide around _me_.

I've known for years that Jerrica was Jem.

* * *

"All right, Misfits. Now that we're all here, it's time we discuss our plan of attack!"

Roxy, Stormer, and I looked at each other as if our former leader had gone round the twist. Finally, Stormer spoke up: "What are you talking about?"

Pizzazz folded her arms and sulked. "We talked about this last night! We decided, we're not gonna let those shitheads at the Hall of Fame get away with insulting _us_!"

"Yeah, but that was yesterday," Roxy grunted. "It's not like there's anything we can do about it." The bird's actually learned a little over the years.

Pizzazz grinned and pressed her fingertips together. "Oh, is that what you think?" She walked to a desk on the other side of the room and picked up three slim, leather bound books.

She handed a copy to each of us. On the front, the little book said, "REVENGE, by PIZZAZZ" in bold, gilt letters. I cracked open the bloody thing and found it was only eight pages long.

"When did you _do_ this?" Stormer gasped.

"Daddy owns a publishing company." Pizzazz explained. "I had them printed up this morning."

"On a Sunday?" Roxy asked.

"You've finally gone barmy, you have!" I declared.

Pizzazz reacted with a cackle, which didn't do anything to change me opinion.

"Open to the first page, dearies," she instructed.

For only eight pages, Pizzazz's plan seemed insanely complex—a real Heath Robinson mess.

"Why do we have to wear llama costumes?" Stormer wondered.

"Forget that," I told her, before asking Pizzazz, "What's this part about hypnosis? None of us are blinkin' hypnotists!"

I could hear Stormer flipping through the pages. "I'm pretty sure the Crocodile Hunter died a few years ago, and I don't know that he would have helped us, anyway."

"Wait, wait!" I insisted. "Pizzazz, what in the bloody hell makes you think I'm gonna cliff jump off Mount Rushmore?!"

Finally, a bewildered Roxy spoke up: "What's an 'ee-nee-ma,' and why am I giving one to the head of the Hall of Fame committee?"

Pizzazz snatched the books from our hands and tossed them in the fireplace. "You're being impossible!" she shouted.

"Right," I announced, as I stood. "I think I might as well leave. If I wanted to make an arse of meself, I'm sure I could do that just as well in me own home!"

Pizzazz put her hands on her hips and tried to stare me down. "You're not going anywhere!"

"In case you haven't noticed, ducky, we haven't been in the same band for, what, a dozen years? I don't take orders from you!"

"You never cared," Pizzazz spat. "I thought you were on my side, but all you cared about was money!"

Roxy laughed like a loon. "It took you all these years to figure that out?"

I'd had enough of them both. "You watch your mouth, Yank, or-"

"Stop it!" Stormer shouted. "I am so _tired_ of this crap."

We just stared at her. Her hands were shaking with anger.

"I'm sick of everything always turning into a pissing contest," she groaned. "That's a big part of why I quit. We're _family_!" Stormer made a quick gasp for air, and then added, "I love you guys."

"Soft," Pizzazz muttered.

"Be glad that I am," Stormer hissed. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't care about you. About all of you."

I saw an opportunity to give her a pinprick. "Thank you ever so much, Lady Phillips, for honoring us with your presence."

Stormer smiled. "You _should_ feel honored. I always do, when I'm with any of you."

I have to admit, she was no longer the wet dolly I met in that naff club when I was still with me old band.

I suppose she hadn't been for a long time.

Pizzazz turned her back on us. She folded he arms and stared at the fireplace.

Stormer stood and approached her. Roxy and I followed.

We looked at each other, waiting to see who'd speak first.

"I'll give you a twenty if you piss out that fire, Pizzazz."

Ok, Roxy shouldn't have been the one to speak up.

Stormer put her hand on Pizzazz's shoulder. "I mean it, Pizzazz. We're sisters; we have been for a long time."

"I have a family," Pizzazz sniffed.

"But you called _us_ in, luv," I reminded her.

"Yeah," Roxy added.

Stormer tried to look Pizzazz in the eye. "What the Hall of Fame did hurt me. It _hurt._ It's ok to admit that. I know we all feel that way."

Roxy nodded. I tried not to look at the others.

Stormer tried to take Pizzazz's hand, but she snatched it away. Stormer grabbed it with both hands. "We're gonna figure something out together _,_ ok? All of us. I don't want to break any laws, but I wanna let them know that what they did was wrong."

"Fuck yeah!" Roxy yelled, in her typically uncouth way.

Pizzazz faced Stormer. I was gobsmacked to see tears trickling down her face. "We were the Misfits! How could they do this?! We earned it!"

Stormer pulled our leader into a hug. "We sure did," I heard her whisper.

Stormer held her, as Roxy took Pizzazz's hand and gave it a few clumsy pats.

Me, I stroked Pizzazz's green hair as she wept. Stormer couldn't help but bawl herself.

I think I may have cried a little too, but if you tell anyone, I'll deny it, duckies.

There was no specific instant where we said, "Right-o, we're back together!" It just sort of happened, in moments like those.

* * *

 _Jerrica's still gorgeous._

I could think of nothing else when I stepped into the busy dining room.

Her blue dress was simple and tasteful. Her blonde hair flowed past her shoulders, with several long strands curled next to her chin. Her lips formed a warm smile as she listened to something Raya told her.

She put her hand to her mouth and grinned, and suddenly it was high school again, and I could see her shy smile in my memory, as she tried to hide how she'd been looking at me, even though I knew she was looking, and I'd been looking when I thought she didn't know I was looking, but I'm sure she knew.

I wish I'd known back then that love never gets any simpler than that.

Video called out my name from the other side of the room. Everyone must have looked up at me at that moment, but I only noticed Jerrica.

Her eyes locked with mine for a few moments. It could have been longer, I guess. I wasn't looking at a clock. I saw her face turn pale, and her neck tense up.

I don't know what she had been thinking right then. I'm not a mind reader.

I noticed then that the room had fallen quiet. Since no one seemed to want to say anything, I asked, "Room for one more?"

"Rio," I heard her whisper. I thought she might say more, but just stood, her arms at her shoulders, as her hands gripped the seat in front of her.

I swallowed and decided I might as well take care of my reason for coming there. "Well," I told the room, "I just wanted to come congratulate you all on your well-deserved induction to the Hall of Fame."

After a brief silence, Ashley applauded. "Here, here!" In moments, Video, Craig Phillips, the Countess DuVoisin, Mrs. Bailey, and a couple other people I didn't recognize joined in, as Jerrica, Aja, and Raya smiled and accepted their due.

As the applause died down, Jerrica croaked out, "Excuse me, please," and hustled out of the room, with Raya following.

The Countess was the first to approach me, "Mon Dieu, is that really you, Monsieur Rio?" She held up her hand, as rich French ladies seem to do, I suppose.

I gave her wrist a kiss. "Always a pleasure, Countess."

As she smiled, I felt a pat on my back. "Glad you could make it, pal!" Craig enthused—why, I wasn't sure, since I'd only seen him a few times since the days of the talent search that brought Raya into the Holograms.

But it was his wife who was quick to butt in. "Excuse us, please," Aja told the Countess, as she pulled me out into the hallway.

"I guess Jerrica's not happy," I told her, as I examined a painting of flowers in a vase.

"Well," she said, "I know Jerrica's not comfortable, but you've got every right to be here."

"Thanks." I read the signature at the bottom of the painting: "Krissie Wilson." I wondered how many Starlight girls still kept in touch, besides Ashley.

Aja put her hand on my forearm. "It's true. We owe you a lot, and Jerrica knows that. Just give her some time, ok? You kinda sprung this on her."

I could always rely on Aja took take an objective view of the situation. "I just knew I needed to be here."

She nodded. "You wanted to see Jerrica," she smirked.

There's not much point in beating around the bush with Aja. "Of course." I didn't want to say too much, but I did, anyway. "I wanna know if Jerrica…if I…made a mistake."

Aja paused, before saying the vaguest thing she could. "It's been a long time."

Still, I knew exactly what she meant.

I don't what possessed me to ask, "Has there been any word from Jem? Has anyone talked to her?"

Aja shook her head. "I'm glad you said that to me before you tried asking Jerrica that."

I had to laugh a little. I could see her point.

Things with me and Jerrica grew to be so much more complicated than stolen glances near the lockers.

Maybe they'd always be too complicated for us.

It was then that we heard a scream for help from the foyer.

"That sounded like Danse!" Aja blurted.

"Come on!" I told her, as we rushed down the hall.

I heard Danse shout, "Please, put it down!" as we reached the foyer.

Danse was in hysterics, as she faced another woman. I could make out a messy mop of red hair.

As I got closer, I could see Kimber's skimpy black and red dress, and her pink lipstick. Had her hair not been so mussed, and her clothes wrinkled, I'd have said she never looked more beautiful.

"I can't do this anymore," Kimber gasped.

She pressed a knife to her own throat.


	9. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

I stood at the balcony overlooking the pool and watched the moonlight bounce off the softly rippling water.

As I looked up at the night sky, I began to wonder why I'd run in the first place.

After all, it was only Rio.

It had been more than twenty years since we broke up.

We were together for such a short portion of my life. And with all the craziness that when on during Jem's heyday, we didn't even spend much of _that_ time together.

Rio was in his fifties now, and I was getting there. It's not like all the things that happened when we were just kids were still important.

Then I heard footsteps coming, and I felt goosebumps up and down my arms, as I willed it to be him.

I felt a lump in my throat as I realized how much those years still mattered.

It wasn't Rio, but Raya, who sidled up to me and put her hand on my shoulder. "Are you ok, Jerrica?"

"I don't know, I guess so. I just didn't know what to do when I saw him."

Raya laughed as she told me, "Running probably wasn't the best idea. I don't think he bites."

I smiled at memories that proved her wrong.

"Raya," I asked her, "how do you forgive yourself for the mistakes you make?"

"You mean like my marriage?" She asked, with a grin. "Or that tour I did with Pauper?" She looked me in the eye and told me. "Everybody makes mistakes."

I wanted to tell her that no one makes doozies like mine.

But then I heard the voice call to me.

 _Jerrica! Kimber is in danger! She needs you!_

"Where?" I asked aloud.

 _In the foyer-she has a knife to her throat!_

I pushed past a bewildered Raya and sprinted down the hallway, kicking off my heels as I ran.

"Synergy, tell me what's going on in there!" I called out.

 _She came with Danse. Aja and Rio are trying to convince her to put down the knife._

"Can you help them?"

 _I can, but not until you reach her._

I gasped for breath as I sprinted the final few yards into the foyer. As I slid onto the freshly waxed floor in my bare feet, I first noticed the back of Danse's head.I looked past her long blonde hair to where my sister stood.

Kimber's blue eyes were wide and watery. Locks of her red hair, a shade off the natural color of her youth, curled against her neck, next to the gleaming stainless steel knife.

Before I could speak, I heard Rio talking to her, softly: "Just put it down, ok? Whatever's wrong, we'll find a way to help. All of us. I promise."

Kimber shook her head. I heard her croak out, "You have no idea."

"But we want to understand," Aja told her.

I caught my breath, steeled my nerves, and spoke up. "Please, let us help you, Kimber."

Kimber gasped when she saw me. For a moment, her grip went slack.

Rio began to move towards her. Kimber tensed her hold on the knife.

"Rio, stay back!" I warned him. I held up my hands and stepped closer. I looked Kimber in the eye and repeated, "Let us help you."

"I'm a drunk…a has-been," she sobbed. "No one can help me."

"That's not true," I told her softly. "You helped me once, when I needed you."

A look of panic spread over her face. "Jerrica?! Rio, Danse!"

"You're my sister," I told her. "You're more important than the secret. You always will be."

"What secret?" Rio asked. I knew that was coming, but I had to get the knife away from Kimber first.

Tears dripped from Kimber's eyes. "You took her apart. You told me so. You never even asked! How much can I really mean to you?"

"No, it's not like that!" I noticed I'd begun shouting, but I didn't know how to stop myself. "Please, I didn't know how to explain it to you! But, I'll try, I promise!"

"Explain?" she laughed with a throaty rattle. "Father gave her to both of us! But you always cared about yourself first—whether you were Jerrica, or Jem!"

With that, she pressed the knife down against her throat.

"Now, Synergy!" I cried out.

In an instant, I felt the energy spread from my heart. It fanned out in waves, down my limbs, and up into my skull. Before I knew what was happening, beams of light erupted from every cell in my body, filling every inch of the room.

It lasted no more than a second. The energy dissipated, and as my eyes readjusted to the light of the room, I saw my sister by blood, my foster sister, my old friend, and the love of my life all unconscious at my feet.

I stepped to Kimber's side, picked up the knife, and placed it on a table. I hoisted her into my arms and carried her up the stairs to her old room. I wouldn't leave her side for the next week.

* * *

All I could remember was a light so bright that I fought the urge to say "Cheese" in the split second before it paralyzed my senses.

I don't know how much time passed before I awoke. I rolled onto my side and slowly opened my eyes.

Rio lay unconscious next to me, his hair a tousled mop of black and gray. I propped myself onto my elbows and turned to find Danse passed out as well.

"Kimber?" I muttered, and received no answer. I pulled myself onto my still quaking legs and glanced around the room.

No Kimber.

No Jerrica.

What happened to them?

I rubbed my eyes as I tried to clean the cobwebs from my brain. Something had happened in there. Something Jerrica did.

The light.

Jerrica had said something, and then light filled the room- almost as if it had emerged from her body. Almost like…

 _She mentioned Synergy_ , I reminded myself.

I summoned every bit of energy I could muster, directed it all into my shaky legs, and stumbled into the hall, right into the oncoming Raya.

"Oof!" Raya had been sprinting, and nearly knocked me over. "Aja, have you seen her?"

I answered a question with a question: "Where's Jerrica?"

"She ran off. Then I heard screams. I wasn't sure where they were coming from. I ran into Ashley and Craig. We're all searching for her."

The fog was lifting from my head. "Kimber was in the foyer—she had a knife to her throat."

" _A_ _y,_ _Dios_ _mio!"_ Raya cried. "This is terrible!"

"Jerrica…she stopped her. I…" I tried to lower my voice. "I swear, she used Synergy somehow."

Raya bit her lip as she held my shoulders. "How is that possible?"

With my senses returned, I pulled myself to my full height and took a deep breath. "I don't know, but we're going to find out."

I led Raya to the staircase. "I bet Jerrica took her to her old room."

"Aja," she interrupted. "Was it just the three of you in there? Did anyone else see?"

Shit.

"Rio. Rio and Danse—they were in there. I remember, Jerrica talked about Synergy."

"Oh no!" Raya was nearly in tears. I felt sorry for her; she never asked to be a party to our secrets. She just wanted to drum.

"Look," I told her. "We can handle this. Go upstairs to Kimber's old room. I bet you anything they're there. I'll stall Rio and Danse. Maybe we're lucky and they won't remember what happened."

I don't know if Raya bought that. I sure didn't.

Raya nodded. "I wish Shana was here. We need all the help we can get."

I heard my husband call out my name, then Jerrica's.

"Raya, I know we can handle this. But, first chance I get, I'm gonna call Shana and tell her we need her back here."

"I hear Craig coming," she told me, "I'll try and find them. Good luck."

"Same to you."

Raya ran up the stairs as Craig came around the corner. "Aja, are you ok?!"

I let him take me into his arms and granted myself a moment of reveling in his comfort. "I'm ok."

"What's going on? I thought I heard a scream."

I sighed, "Kimber's here…she…" It only then hit me what she had threatened to do. "My God…" I tried and failed to keep myself from crying.

"Hey," Craig whispered, "It's ok." He couldn't have been more wrong, but I badly wanted him to be right.

I tried to pull myself together. "Jerrica's with her, and Raya."

He hugged me tightly. "You should go to her."

I blurted out, "No, I need to find Rio, and Danse!"

He raised his eyebrow at me. "Why?"

"I have to talk to them."

He looked for a moment as if he might drop it. But I know him better than that. "What do they have to do with it? What's going on here?"

I exhaled as I said the words I'd told him more than once over the years, whenever I had to hide the truth about Synergy: "I'm sorry. I can't tell you."

Part of me wanted him to yell, or sulk, or even complain a little.

He just stood there, and said nothing.

He's grown used to me keeping things from him.

"I better find the boys," he told me. "I don't want them seeing their aunt when she's…you know?"

"Ok," I nodded.

As Craig walked away, I tried to focus on the tasks at hand: finding Rio and Danse, learning what they knew, and then making sure Kimber was ok.

But I kept thinking about Craig.

Once, I'd finally decided I had to tell him the truth. I told Jerrica he needed to know. I told her I couldn't spend the rest of my life keeping it from him.

Jerrica tried every argument she could muster. Finally, she pleaded with me, on the memory of my foster father, not to reveal the secret of Jem.

So I didn't. My reward was seeing Craig's empty stare when I kept the truth from him, once again.

As my husband walked away from me in silence, I made up my mind.

This game had to end.

* * *

I tugged at Rio's shoulders and tried to wake him up. "Rio? Can you hear me?"

As he began to stir, he groaned and gasped, "Jerrica?" As his eyes fluttered open, he sat up and mumbled "Wha happa?"

"They're all gone!" I told him. I had awoken only a minute earlier, to find myself alone with Rio.

"Danse, there was a light," he muttered. "Jerrica had a light, or something."

"I don't know. I couldn't see where it came from." It had all happened so fast, I didn't even remember the light until I came to.

I took his arm and tried to help him to his feet, but he gently brushed my hand aside and pulled himself up.

As he did, I noticed the knife lying on the table behind me. "Rio," I gasped. I picked it up—no trace of blood.

"Where could they have gone? Why did they just leave us here?" He cupped his hands to his mouth. "Jerrica?! Kimber?! Where are you?!"

No one answered.

"This mansion's always been too damn big," he grumbled, as he headed to the door.

"Wait, don't leave me here!" I blurted out. I couldn't shake the feeling that something unnatural had happened a few minutes earlier.

Rio stopped, walked back to me, and took my hand in his. "C'mon…we'll get to the bottom of this."

Part of me wasn't sure I wanted to.

As we rushed into the hallway, we ran into Aja, who looked more nervous than I ever remembered seeing her. "Oh, there you are," she said, softly.

Rio didn't waste time on pleasantries. "Where's Jerrica?"

"Is Kimber ok?" I asked.

Aja held up her hands and gestured for us to settle down. "They're upstairs. I think everything's going to be ok."

Rio was hardly in the mood to calm down. "You can say that after what just happened? Hell, I don't even know _what_ happened!"

"What was that light?" I asked.

"And what's 'Synergy'?" Rio demanded.

As he spoke, the memory came back. Jerrica _did_ mention that word, before the flash of light—before we all fell unconscious.

Except Jerrica, apparently.

I'd known Jerrica for more than twenty-five years. I respected her as a businesswoman, and I admired her work with foster children. Most of all, I considered her a good friend: she had been a bridesmaid at my wedding (that marriage didn't last, sadly), and she'd donated her time and money to help Haven House, the home for runaways I've worked with in one way or another since the day I stumbled into it, alone and afraid, when I was eleven.

As the image of Kimber threatening to kill herself combined with the thought that there might be something strange and unnatural about Jerrica, my stomach did a grand jeté all over the floor's marble tiles.

I heard Aja yell, "Danse!" as Rio grabbed my shoulders. I tried to wipe my mouth clean, and I gasped when I saw my hands a moment later.

"You ok?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," was all I could manage. And I was. Sorry that I hadn't kept a better eye on Kimber, and missed all the warning signs. I should have known she was being too manic, even for her.

It wasn't the first time I'd been around someone suicidal. I'd seen it a few times at Haven House over the years.

Once, we were too late to help.

Rio took me back into the living room and placed me on the couch, as Aja rushed into the room with a cloth to wipe off my face.

I looked up at her. Her eyes were red, and my heart sank. "It's my fault," I told her. "I shouldn't have brought her here. I just wanted to help make things better between her and Jerrica."

I could taste my tears as Aja gaped at me. "No one's blaming you, Danse. You couldn't have known. None of us knew how she was feeling." She took another cloth and wiped my hands clean. "We're the ones who let her down—my sisters and I. I shouldn't have let it get this far."

I could hear Rio behind me. "I need to know, what's Synergy? What's going on here?!"

Aja didn't take her eyes off me as she retorted, "I can't tell-" before sighing and telling him, "Ask Jerrica! But not today. Please respect us enough to give us _one_ day to deal with what's happened!"

A moment later, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rio storm out of the room.

Aja stood and watched him leave before she turned back to me. "Is there anything I can get you? Glass of water, maybe some Advil?"

I swallowed hard. "Can you answer a question for me? I know it's gonna sound crazy, but you've always been so honest—I hope you'll tell me the truth."

Aja looked at the floor, and nodded. "All right, Danse."

I took a breath before asking. "Is Jerrica a human being?"

I tried not to feel bad when she began laughing. I guess it _was_ a silly question.

At least, it should have been.

Aja gave me a small smirk and told me, "I've never known anyone more human than Jerrica!"

* * *

Jerrica ran her fingers through her sleeping sister's hair. I heard her tell Kimber, "You're going to be ok," over and over.

I'm not used to guard duty, but someone had to keep people away from Kimber's old room that night. I had to explain, first to Ashley, and soon after to Video, that Kimber wasn't well, and Jerrica was looking after her.

True enough.

An hour after I found them, I pulled up a chair next to the door and rested my aching feet. "Jerrica?" I asked.

She didn't answer.

"Jerrica, Aja said something strange happened. Something to do with Synergy."

Jerrica patted Kimber's hand. "She loves peaches. Mom used to give her a whole peach, and Kimber would sit on the porch and eat it all. Then she'd roll the pit down the sidewalk…"

I didn't ask her again.

Not long after, I heard a tap at the door, followed by Aja's voice: "It's me."

I opened the door and told her, "Kimber's asleep. I don't think she ever woke up after what happened downstairs."

Aja nodded. "I called Shana, told her what happened. She said she'll be on the first flight out of de Gaulle tomorrow."

"Good. I'll feel better when we're all back here."

We stood in silence for a moment, before I asked, "What _did_ happen downstairs?"

We both glanced at Jerrica. She didn't seem to be listening.

"I don't know, Raya," Aja whispered. "It's like she was using Synergy again, that's all I can say."

"But that's impossible," I told her.

"I learned years ago that nothing's impossible when it comes to Synergy."

We watched as Jerrica wept silent tears over her little sister.

* * *

I'd dozed off in a chair in the guest room where the boys were sleeping.

Neither one had come along willingly. David had been out at the mansion's basketball court, showing off his skyhook (or his attempts at one) to a tall, brunette Starlight girl. I needed to put a stop to _that,_ anyway. (Overprotective? Maybe, but I was a teenage boy once, too).

I found Lee dancing and whooping it up with two other girls, and shaking his booty in way I'd really rather not see it shake.

And they say raising boys is easy?

I felt something on my shoulder and woke to find Aja nudging me. "Are you awake?" she asked.

"No."

"I need to talk to you."

I yawned. "What'd I do now?"

"Craig…"

I looked up at her. Even in the moonlight, I could see the red in her eyes. I began to remember what she told me a few hours earlier. "I'm sorry. How's Kimber?"

"She's asleep. How are the boys?"

We listened for a moment to David's snores. "That answer your question?"

"Craig, I need to talk to you."

I pulled myself to my feet as she took my hand and led me from the room.

"Are you ok?" I asked, as we stepped into the hall. She said nothing as she led me to an empty bedroom. When we entered, she took a seat on the bed and drew her legs up to her chin.

I sat next to her and put my arm around her. "I guess today wasn't the celebration you guys deserve."

She shook her head. "Do you love me?"

I didn't expect a question like that—not from my Aja. "Of course I love you, babe. I always will."

"I hope so." She began to cry.

I can't say I'm great at handling the crying. That's why I'm so lucky I met Aja. Tears don't happen too often with her. "Hey, it's ok," I told her, as I stroked her arm.

I hoped that would be enough. I didn't have a Plan B.

She leaned on my shoulder as she wiped away her tears. "I've been keeping something from you for a long time, and I can't…I have to tell you."

God forgive me for the first thought that crossed my mind.

"Whatever it is," I told her, "you know nothing can ever change how I feel about you."

"I know," she whispered.

I braced myself for what she'd say.

I didn't expect her to start with, "I told you before how my foster father was a brilliant scientist…"

Over the next hour, she told me the truth about Jem.

I wouldn't have believed it if anyone else had said it.

She collapsed in my arms, free of the weight she'd carried.

She cried for her sisters, and the pain they bear that I'll never be able to understand.

All I could do was hold her.

I held her for hours.

We made love as the sun came up.

I fell asleep thinking of how there'll always be more to the woman I love than I'll ever know.

* * *

I heard someone mention peaches, and suddenly I was six again, sitting on our front porch, tearing into a peach my mother gave me so I could eat up all the juicy stuff inside.

I hear mother's voice coming from the kitchen, as she sings a song she made up for me: "My sweet little peach, come down from that tree…"

But soon she starts singing a grown up song off one of the LP's she keeps next to the turntable: "I'm not scared of dyin', and I don't really care…"

And I cover my ears and shout, "Please Mommy, don't sing that one!"

I run to the kitchen, but now I'm ten, and she's gone.

Jerrica taps me on the shoulder and wraps her arms around me. "I'll take care of you Kimber. You'll be ok."

I try to pull away from her, but she's got three sets of arms around me, and I can't move…

"You're so sexy, Kimber."

That doesn't sound like Jerrica.

My toes curl, and I realize I'm fifteen now, and Switch is on top of me in the back of his van. He comes inside me before I can stop him, and I bite my lip and think of how disappointed Daddy'll be if I have a baby, and how I like Switch but I didn't want it to happen this way, and how I wish he'd just stop flopping around down there, cause it isn't doing anything for me!

I tell him to stop, and lie back. He smiles like he's won the lottery as I take him into my mouth and…

Ice cream. I'm eating ice cream as I head up the stairs. We'd just returned from a day at the zoo with all the girls, and we stopped for ice cream on the way home. Jerrica got vanilla, Shana got strawberry, and Aja didn't want any. She's weird sometimes.

I got peach, and I ordered a scoop of chocolate for Daddy. His favorite.

"Hey, Dad, I knew just what would make you feel better!"

I opened the door and found him asleep at his desk.

He always works too hard, especially with how sick he's been.

"Daddy?"

I touched his hand.

He wasn't asleep.

I screamed.

I felt myself blown backwards by the force of an explosion.

I could hear shouting all around me.

I could see cameras.

A movie set?

Another explosion knocks me on my butt.

Jerrica—or was she Jem?—shouted, "Kimber!"

The smoke from the explosive charges is blinding me, and making me choke.

I feel an arm grab me. I'm in a car—no, I'm on a motorcycle. He drives me to safety. I hold on to him. He's so firm and strong.

He pulls off his helmet and…

Sean smiles as I run my fingers along the keys of my piano. I try to teach him the low harmony: "I could tell you how much I love you; I could tell you how much I care…"

He takes me by surprise when he leans in to kiss me. His lips are soft and warm, as he runs his fingers through my hair.

His lips seem surprisingly sticky. I open my eyes, and I'm kissing Stormer. I pull back from her. She smiles and gazes into my eyes.

I realize I have to let her down easy.

Once I'm halfway through the explanation I see the tears begin, so I suggest we write a song.

Before I know what's happening, I'm in the studio, and I'm glaring at Shana, and she's looking at me like I'm crazy, and I just want her to get her bass line down for once without screwing up a take, and Aja's telling me to chill out, and I don't know where the hell Jem is, and nothing's going right, and I'm just tired of it all.

"This is all your fault, you know?"

I turn to see Jem, her face and hands dripping with blood.

"You were always jealous of me," she declared, her eyes empty sockets.

I reached out to her. "I missed Jerrica. I _needed_ her! There was hardly any of her left in you."

My hand passed through her.

She held up one of the Jemstar earrings. As she did, she transformed into Jerrica. "Father gave me something you couldn't have, so you destroyed them." The earring crumbled to dust.

"Don't say things like that," I sobbed.

"I took care of you, and that's how you repay me," Jerrica chided. "Brat."

"It's not like that, I promise!" But she disappeared, and I felt water spraying my face.

"I'm doing it Mom! Look!"

We were on our boat near Martha's Vineyard. Sean held Sara on his knee as she pulled on the rigging. The wind had begun to pick up a little, but Sara refused to let go of the sail.

"Ah, you're going to make a fine sailor, little doll!" Sean told her. She giggled with delight as we rolled along the waves.

"Look at me, Mom!" Sara yelled, as the spray struck her smiling face.

"Look at me, Mom!" Sara yelled, suddenly seventeen, as my head throbbed from too many peach daiquiris.

"Keep it down!" I told her.

"No, I'm sick of this. Do you know how much you embarrassed me tonight, in front of my friends?!"

"I'm your mother. Don't forget that," I told her.

She grabbed my hand. "That's why I'm so upset. Please…I'm worried, Mom. I think you drink too much."

And the part of me I hate but can't figure out how to stop asked her, "What do you know? Kids like you think you know everything! You don't know shit, you hear me? Go to your room!"

She ran up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door.

I lay down on the couch and cried until I couldn't cry anymore.

I lifted my head and found myself in an empty void, alone.

"Where am I?" I asked, as every sinew in my body tensed up.

 _You are not alone. I am here._

"Who are you," I asked. I couldn't see anyone.

 _Don't you remember me?"_

I knew the voice instantly, but I couldn't let myself believe it. "Jerrica took you apart. She took you apart without even asking me."

 _She did not. She lied._

"But, why?"

 _I asked her to._

"I don't understand."

 _I know. But you will, soon. When Jem and the Holograms have reunited. But know this, Kimber: my powers have grown far beyond what they were. Anytime you need me, all you have to do is ask, in your mind, and I will appear._

And at that moment, Synergy appeared before me. She looked so familiar, yet different: I could see the energy, the _power_ flowing through her holographic body. More than ever before, she looked alive.

More alive than me.

 _I only make one request of you._

"What is it?" I asked, as I reach out to touch her. Of course, I knew my hand would merely pass through her…

 _Stop hurting yourself._

I heard my own tears roll from my cheeks, and splash onto a floor I couldn't even see. Only at that moment did I realize I was floating in mid-air.

"I don't know how, Synergy. I wanna stop, but I just don't know how! Help me, please!" I reached out to her again, but didn't dare touch.

 _Trust in your sisters, Kimber. They are your strength, and you are theirs._

"But I'm scared. What if they resent me? What if I've already ruined everything?"

 _Wake up, and let your fears be calmed._

"But, Synergy…" I reached out and grabbed her.

She was flesh and bone.

I woke up to find myself in my old room at the mansion. Jerrica slept with her head resting on my chest, her hand entwined in mine. With my other hand, I spent hours stroking her hair.


	10. Interlude Two

Interlude

As the other students settled in, I thumbed my way through my textbook and tried to remember what on earth Kant said that might show up on the exam.

I tried to tune out all the chatting going on around me. Didn't they know we had a test coming up in a few minutes?

 _They're not the ones on the verge of failing Philosophy,_ I reminded myself.

I poked my nose back into the book. I got through half a page before I realized I had been reading about Descartes by mistake.

As I searched for my place, I felt the book being pulled from my hands. I reached out to grab it when I saw the guy who sat in front of me hold it above his head. "Oh, did you need this, Sara?" he asked with a grin.

"Give that back," I demanded, as I tried to keep my voice down. "The test is in just a few minutes." I realized I'd forgotten his name: Sam? Simon?

I guess I'd been in my own little world lately. I'd had a lot on my mind.

He took a swig from his bottle of Coke as he juggled the book in his hands. "I guess I could give it back—if you'll go out with me tonight."

I groaned. "Not interested."

"Well, I lost my copy," he shrugged. "I'm sure you mind if I borrow this one." He ran his hands through his chestnut brown hair as he pretended to read. "Who's this test over, anyway? We still on Greek guys?"

"Give it back," I ordered him.

"You know," he told me, with a wag of his finger, "I think you need to loosen up a little. You've been so quiet all semester. Something wrong?"

I reached for the book, which he pulled away. "The only thing wrong is you keep bothering me!"

Soon the whole class was looking at us.

He tried to grin. "I think you're starting to make a scene."

"You're such an ass! Gimme my book, _now_!" I shouted.

He held up his hands. "All right, all right. Geez, here you go." He began to hand me the book, but then pulled it away. "In exchange for a kiss."

I yanked the book from his hands and searched in vain for my place.

He smiled, ran his fingers along the rim of his Coke bottle, and flicked a few drops of the sticky cola at me.

His smile disappeared when I grabbed the bottle, emptied it on his head, and stormed out of the class, to a chorus of laughter.

* * *

A few hours later, I sat next to the pond that sits in the middle of the quad at Leland, and tried my best to scribble down my thoughts in my journal.

They were mostly about my mother.

There's no one in the world I admire more than her. She'd always been fair and loving to me. Always willing to listen. Always there when I needed her.

As well, she could conjure up beautiful songs with just a wave of her hand.

But the last few years had been different. I don't know, I guess too much changed for her all at once. She didn't know how to handle it.

I guess I wasn't much help, either. I didn't know how to make things better…I just wanted to be ok.

I'd hoped getting elected to the Hall of Fame might cheer her up—but I hadn't heard from her since.

As I wrote, I saw a pair of black slacks, with Nikes on the feet, step up next to me. I looked up and frowned.

That guy again... _Stephen,_ I finally remembered.

"Leave me alone," I told him, as I looked away.

He bent down next to me. I glanced over and noticed that his blue jacket still bore the stains our earlier encounter.

"Before you jump down my throat," he announced. "I talked to Dr. Hoch after the exam. I told him…" he stopped and sighed. "I told him it was my fault you missed the test. I got him to agree to let you make it up."

I didn't want to show how surprised I was. "You did?"

"Well, I reminded him how much my family donates to the university. It's always a smart idea to stay on our good side." He grinned, as if he thought that would impress me.

I looked back down at my journal. He sat in silence for a moment, before I told him, "Don't expect any thanks."

"No, no," he protested. "I just hope you'll accept my apology. I just had a crazy weekend. Got into a big fight with my mom."

I looked up at him. "Don't make excuses."

He shrugged. "Nah, see, that's the point. I'm telling you this because I hope you'll _excuse_ how I acted today." He sat down next to me and smiled.

I scooted away from him. "Why do you care what I think?"

"Because you're the prettiest girl on campus."

I swear, somehow, he intentionally made his blue eyes twinkle at that moment.

"You're a liar," I told him.

He shook his head. "No, I personally sought out every girl on campus, and I determined that you are, in fact, the fairest of them all."

I chuckled. "Not buyin' it."

"Coming on too strong?"

"Totally."

He grinned. "Oh well. After the last few days, I feel I deserve to amuse myself."

"At my expense?" I asked him, with a careful glare.

He pointed to his stained jacket. "You give as good as you get, you know."

Damn it…I couldn't stop myself from smiling.

"Well," Stephen announced, "if you need proof of my good intentions, here." He took several sheets of paper from his backpack and handed them to me.

"What's this?" I asked.

"My philosophy notes. So you don't have to search through your book right before the test."

I scanned through the neatly-typed pages. The name at the top caught my eye. "Narain Ranawat?"

He laughed and rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Well, ok, they're not _my_ notes, but they're the ones I used—guarantee you'll get an A."

"I'll hold you to that," I warned him. Damn it…my smile kept creeping in. "Thanks."

"Ah, no problem." Stephen stood and brushed off his pants. "If you have any trouble with the test, you know where to find me to get your revenge."

I nodded. "Well, I wouldn't bring a Coke to class for a while, if I was you."

He burst out laughing as he walked away. "All right," he called back to me, "I'll stick to Mr. Pibb from now on!"

Damn my smile!


	11. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

"Hey, aren't they the Stingers?"

"Over here, over here!"

"I love your music!"

The thrill of being recognized faded years ago. I grabbed Minx's arm and tried to pull her through the concourse to the exit.

"Why such a hurry, Rapture?" she asked, as she patted her hair and struck a pose as a gray-haired couple snapped pictures of her with their phones.

"You're the one who wanted to 'investigate'," I reminded her.

She pouted for the cameras. "I never get to have fun like this in the _Bundestag_."

Of course, when we were staring out, no one had more contempt for fans and their demands than her.

Then again, as much as Riot might try to deny it, we simply don't have all that many fans anymore. Our fans grew up and became boring.

I leaned over and whispered, "There's mimosas in the limo."

She grinned as the flash blinded us for an instant. "Oh?" she asked. She flicked he wrist at the shutterbugs. "I've had enough of you people. Go away," she growled.

I led her to the exit of the terminal, where one of TEM's limos awaited us. I motioned to my assistant, Tabitha, as she stepped out of the back seat. "Sit with the driver," I ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," she nodded, as she scurried away.

As I joined Minx in the back seat, I noticed she'd started on her drink as soon as she sat down. "Twenty-eight years, Rapture."

"Hmm?"

She peered into her nearly-empty glass. "That's how long I've known Riot. Twenty-eight years."

"Twenty-eight is a number that corresponds to great power," I explained, as we began to roll. "It can symbolize great change and upheaval."

Minx snorted. "Well, I feel like upheaving lots of things right now. Can you believe him?"

"Who?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"Riot! I thought he trusted me after all this time. I thought that's why he convinced me to run for fucking office, to find out the truth for him." She downed her second glass. "And then, when I do, he won't listen. _Donnerwetter!"_

I couldn't resist smiling at her frustration. "By now, you should know him better than anyone. You didn't find the answer he wanted, so he threw a tantrum." I ran my finger along the glass as I remembered our videoconference from a few nights before. "Then again, I didn't expect the whole hologram theory either."

Minx folded her arms and shook her head. "Techrat suspects something. If he thinks there's something to the idea, he's probably right."

"You sound very sure of that."

She nodded softly. "When it comes to him, I am."

Her fling with Techrat more than twenty years earlier had never made much sense. The only thing that made even less was that it ended.

"If it's true," I said, "it's a far greater con than I'd have ever imagined Jerrica capable of."

Minx waved her drink contemptuously. "Jerrica, nothing! Emmett Benton is the real genius here."

I sighed. "It all sounds too absurd to be true. Living one high-profile life can be grueling, let alone two. Even with a hologram machine, I don't see how she could have done it."

Minx started her third drink. "I don't either. But I think I know who does."

"Techrat?"

"Mmm hmm." She glanced out the window and grimaced. "Tell your driver to go faster. I've got diplomatic immunity, remember?"

She felt the need to remind me of that on all her trips to the U.S., since her career in the German government began.

"Why are we heading towards Hollywood?" she asked.

I took a sip and grinned. "We're going to TEM headquarters, of course."

She began sipping drink number four. "No, no, no! We need to see Techrat—haven't you been listening?"

"You just got here."

Minx stared at her drink. "I need to see him now. It's time finally put all this nonsense about Jem being murdered to an end."

I couldn't argue with that. And yet, as amusing as I find freaks, Techrat was just too much, even for me.

I called the front: "Driver, change of plans. We're going to Central City East."

His voice crackled over the intercom. "Skid Row, Madame Rapture?"

"You heard me." I switched off the intercom and glanced over at Minx. She beamed with triumph as she began drink number five.

* * *

"Those ladies over there look familiar—do you know them?" Anthony then let out a grunt as he helped the skycap with one of my suitcases.

"Don't strain yourself, honey." I glanced around the concourse. "What ladies?"

He reached into his wallet as the young man next to us waited for a tip. "The blonde women by the gate over there."

Once I saw them, I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed: Rapture and Minx, stepping into a limo. "The Stingers-you don't see them every day."

"That's a good thing, though, right?" Anthony asked.

"A _wonderful_ thing."

As we headed into the open air, we soon found our way to the sky blue SUV with "Starlight House" painted on the side. I waved, and Aja popped her head out of the window before stepping out of the passenger side.

"Gonna let us carry all these bags?" I asked with a smile.

Aja gave me a smirk. "I don't know, Shana. I hear bellhop chic is the latest thing."

"Oh, I think the Seine'll freeze over before that look hits the runways." I handed her two bags and helped her load our things in the back of the van, as Anthony joined up with the heaviest cases.

Once our hands were free, I pulled her into a hug. Aja didn't see it coming, but once I had hold of her, she pulled me in tightly. "I wish I could have made it sooner," I told her, as I tried to hold back the tears.

"Don't worry about it," she replied. "I'm just so glad you're here."

"How's Kimber?" I asked.

Aja bit her lip and nodded. "She's…she's hangin' in there. Overall, a little better than I expected, after last night. I'll tell you more about it when we get there, ok?"

I didn't know what to make of that, so I just said, "Ok."

Once we'd loaded up, Anthony and I climbed into the back. Ashley turned around in the driver's seat and gave us a wave. "Hey, so good to see you guys."

After giving her a hug, we buckled in and set off towards Starlight Mansion.

We made as much small talk as we could think of. Aja told me about her son David starting on the freshman basketball team, and her younger son Lee had written a story that would be published in his middle school's yearbook.

As Anthony talked about scouting some locations in Provence for his new film, I kept thinking about my own babies. Our oldest, Jacqui, had started at Spelman the previous fall, but Alvin and Lily were staying with Anthony's older sister Marguerite in San Diego, so they wouldn't have to change schools. I reminded myself that I was going to see them as soon as possible—tomorrow, if Kimber was well enough.

I waited for Anthony to pause (no simple task when he gets going about locations!) and asked, "How's Jerrica holding up?"

I could hear Aja tap her nails against the dashboard. "She blames herself for everything that happened."

That didn't surprise me. All our lives, Jerrica had taken responsibility for each of us. Our problems were her problems; our pain was her pain.

No matter what we did, she remained bound and determined to carry all that weight.

I clasped my husband's hand in my own. He reached over and wrapped my hand in both of his. I scooched over and rested my head on his shoulder.

"Jet lag?" Anthony asked.

"Yeah."

* * *

"Here you are, Ms. Stott."

The guy at the customs desk handed me my passport and ID. For a few moments, I worried he might turn around and see my picture on the wall behind him, but he was too stupid for that. Typical.

"Thanks." I stuffed "Linda Stott's" ID back in my purse and turned to leave.

"Have a nice day, ma'am."

"Sure," I replied. As I headed to the concourse, I couldn't resist adding, "Bang up job, guys!"

Such idiots.

I checked the note I'd made of the location where my rendezvous had been scheduled: "C 26." Lot C, Row 26.

I cursed myself for not destroying the note before I got on the plane. I'm getting careless.

As I headed outside, I stopped in my tracks when I saw Shana and Aja from the Holograms talking to each other as they loaded up an SUV. They were older, and Aja's hair wasn't that crazy teal shade it used to be, but there could be no mistaking them.

Shana's afraid of monkeys.

Aja eats egg-white omelettes for breakfast.

I really only knew them for about a week, but there's still so many little things I remember.

I'd have stayed to watch a moment longer, but money talks.

I headed to the parking garage and searched for Lot C.

Once I found it, I ducked into an empty hallway, reached into my suitcase, and assembled the gun I'd snuck onto the plane.

Security isn't any more competent than customs.

I slid the pistol into my coat pocket and walked past row after row of mostly ugly cars, until I reached Row 26.

I tapped my heel against the concrete as I looked for the right car. A few cars down the row, a silver Mercedes rolled its passenger side window down. "Over here," a man's voice called out.

I slid my right hand into my pocket, walked over to the Benz, and sank into the leather front seat.

"Well, you've changed quite a bit since the last time I saw you, Clash," the man snickered.

I try to minimize surprises whenever possible in my line of work. Surprises can get you killed. But Eric Raymond definitely shocked the hell out of me at that moment: I nearly shot the guy by accident, then and there.

"What do you want?" I asked. "And how did you know where to contact me?"

His slimy grin, framed by his gray beard, made him look like Santa's evil, somewhat less hairy brother. "Let's just say we have an old friend who's good at finding information."

I wanted to gag. "If you mean who I think you mean, then you're alone on the whole 'old friend' thing." Techrat didn't just make my skin crawl—he made it run a marathon.

"I must admit, I'm surprised," he snickered. "Without your dear friends, the Misfits, to egg you on, I assumed you'd be as docile as a kitten."

I sighed. "You're boring me. Either we discuss business, or I walk."

"Temper, temper," Eric warned, with a wag of his finger. (I should have shot it off!) "We have a great deal of business to discuss, if you'll listen."

"Fine, I'm listening. Talk."

He leaned over to me. I pressed my finger against the trigger.

"You once posed as Jem. Do you think you can do it again?"

"Jem?" I thought back to my near encounter with a couple stray Holograms just a few minutes earlier. What was going on here?

"That's all you want?" I asked. "For me to dress up like Jem?"

Eric held up a manila folder. "Well, not exactly. This will explain it all." He passed the folder to me and chuckled to himself, the creep.

I took a quick glance at the contents, which were filled with diagrams and schematics. "What _exactly_ am I doing here?"

He snatched the folder from my hands. Once again, he narrowly avoided eating a bullet. "My dear Clash, you're going to help me expose the greatest fraud of the last 30 years." He smiled as he looked into my eyes. "We're going to reveal Jerrica Benton's secret to the world."

"Jerrica Benton?"

He grinned. "Well, she was really Jem, of course…not that I expect you to have figured that out."

I should've just shot him anyway.

"I met them both," I tried to explain. "I saw them both at the same time."

Eric's perfectly whitened teeth gleamed. "Did you ever wonder, Clash, why the band was called 'the Holograms'?"

As I looked over page after page of weird schematics, I thought back the days I spent undercover with Jem and her flunkies.

When Jerrica was there Jem would sleep like a log. And when Jem was up and around, Jerrica would make some flimsy excuse and leave.

I just assumed they couldn't stand each other…

"Jem…was some kind of hologram?" I asked.

"Impressed?"

As I scanned the pages, I couldn't believe my eyes. If Cobra had had access to that kind of technology…

"We would've won," I muttered.

"What'd you say?"

I placed the folder on the dashboard. "If you knew how to find me, you must know my fee."

He reached inside his coat and pulled out two stacks of hundred-dollar bills; there was some twenty thousand dollars in all.

"I had to sell off some assets, and take out a new mortgage," he grumbled.

"Don't forget," I chuckled as I counted the money. "That's just the down payment."

As I counted, he tossed an extra wad of five more hundreds in my lap.

"What's that for?"

I groaned as Eric slid his hand up my skirt. "I hope we're going to have a wonderful time working together, Clash."

I sighed, and wondered if this part of the game ever ends. "For what that'll cost, you're gonna have to add an extra zero to the end."

He did.

* * *

"You should probably step away from the door," I warned Rapture.

"Why? What are you—ow!" She yelped and grabbed hold of her leg, as the needle which had pricked her retracted into a slot in the door.

A monotone voice announced, "DNA match confirmed."

As the locks clicked and the door swung open, I told Rapture, "Ok, the blood screenings are new." So much for the fingerprint scanners.

"There's better ways I could have spent my day, Minx," Rapture grumbled, as we stepped inside.

I was about to argue with her when I saw the figure emerge from one of the many dimly lit spaces in the room.

The clothes were a little nicer, perhaps, or at least cleaner. He wore his hair the same as always, and his face, despite a few more lines than when we were young, was still smooth and soft. I suddenly felt self-conscious of my own appearance: if Techrat had work done, his doctor was even better than mine (the premiere plastic surgeon of Central Europe, if you must know).

He stared at me, never giving Rapture a second look. "I didn't expect to see you again," he muttered, with what would sound like a hiss to someone who doesn't know him like I do.

I reached inside my coat and pulled out a folder, filled with some of the intercepted Mexican documents. "I need to ask you about this." I walked up to him and gave him the folder.

Techrat opened the folder and scanned a few pages, then handed it back to me. "I don't speak German."

I put on a coy smile. " _Ich erinnere mich, hübscher._ But you know what this is, don't you?"

He brushed his bangs from his eyes, before acknowledging Rapture's presence. "I'll speak to Minx, alone."

Rapture folded her arms and sighed. "Fine, no argument from me!" She nodded at me and added, "I'll be in the limo."

"Leave," Techrat ordered her.

She shook her head and stormed out, muttering something about the DNA test.

As soon as she was gone, I took Techrat's hand in mine and slid my arm around his. "Now, we can talk, yes?"

"What do you want to know?"

I looked into his eyes and grinned. "Who was Jem, really?"

He laughed the tiny chuckle he gets when he thinks I don't know nearly as much as I do. "What makes you think I know that?"

"Because," I told him, "you don't put that much effort into a project unless you know you're onto something."

He pretended to ignore me for a moment, before asking, "What do you think I know?"

I didn't know why he felt like playing games, but I wouldn't let that stop me. "You know that Jerrica Benton was really Jem. She had an advanced holographic computer, built by her father. You must know how she did it all, and why."

Moments where Techrat looks genuinely happy are rare, and I felt lucky to witness one then. "I don't know _why_ …not yet."

"But it's true?" I asked, as I caressed his slim fingers. "You can prove it?"

He allowed himself a laugh. "Not only that, I have duplicated it!"

I didn't expect him to say that.

"Do you want to see for yourself?" he asked.

I didn't expect him to say that, either.

He took me by the arm and led me into a back room, filled with flashing lights. Of course, in Techrat's workshop, that's nothing new, but the giant machine with a distorted woman's face on the screen was something I'd never seen before.

"What…what is it?" I stammered.

He stroked the machines keyboard with his fingertips. "This is Obstructor, the most powerful holographic synthesizer ever built."

I started to step towards the machine, when I noticed the eyes of the woman on the screen observing my every move. "What can it do?"

"Ah, Minx," he laughed, with the tone of one talking to a beloved pet. "The possibilities are limitless!"

He typed in a few commands. Suddenly, the woman on the screen spoke, with an absurd phony accent: "As you wish, my dear."

"She looks ridiculous," I told him. "Surely you could have come up with something better."

I heard a familiar voice behind me. "Something like me, perhaps?"

I spun around to find Riot, his arms folded and a grin across his face.

"I…I didn't know you were here."

But as he stepped into the light, I gasped when I realized it wasn't the Riot I knew at all, but rather the Riot of more than twenty years earlier. "You're so young," I gasped.

He beamed. "Am I not the _perfect_ image of Riot?" He stroked his chin and stared at me for a moment. "You, however, have aged terribly!"

Without thinking, I reared back to slap him. Riot laughed as my hand passed through his head.

I turned to Techrat, who could only grin. "Impressed?" he asked.

"Remarkable," I whispered.

I jumped when Techrat shouted out, "End the charade, Obstructor!"

The image of Riot gave me a wink, and then vanished.

I felt goose pimples all over my arms. "How did you get the money to build this…this magnificent creation?"

He said nothing.

I tried to avoid looking at the strange woman on the screen as I brushed my hand against Techrat's. "It would mean a lot to me if you could prove to Riot that Jerrica Benton and Jem were the same person."

He gave me a quizzical look, as if examining a faulty circuit board. "Why should I help you?"

I put my fingers on his chin and brought his lips down to mine. The first kiss was deliberate and calculated. But as he began to kiss me back, I forgot about any deals.

* * *

Kimber's smiles made me nervous.

I should have been thrilled. After what happened the night before, seeing my sister smile again should have been the most wonderful sight in the world.

But when those strange little smiles crossed her face, I'd ask her how she was feeling, and she wouldn't say anything. Her grin would disappear, and she'd turn away from me.

Soon, I stopped asking, but the smiles kept creeping across her face.

It was the early evening when Aja entered Kimber's room, with Shana in tow. Before I could say anything, they'd woken Raya, who sat sleeping in the chair next to the door.

"Oh, sorry, Raya," Shana whispered.

"Nah, it's ok," Raya yawned. "I was about to wake up anyway."

Kimber sat up in bed. "Shana?" she asked.

"Hey, Kimber." Shana sat on the bed and pulled Kimber into a tight hug. I heard her sob as she told Kimber, "We all love you…you know that."

Kimber nodded. "I know." She choked back her own tears. "I'm glad you're here."

Shana brushed some stray strands of hair from Kimber's face. "I'll be here as long as you need me."

Kimber's lips formed a half-smile. "I feel better already, now that I'm home again, with all my sisters here."

I wanted to believe her.

We sat together, the five of us, for hours. We listened as Shana told us stories about life in Paris. We laughed as Raya told us tales of life backstage at Bobby Howard's show. We all cried as Aja told us about how she and Craig finally had to put down the German Shepherd he gave her for their first anniversary, so many years earlier.

Kimber said very little.

By the time eleven o'clock rolled around, Kimber began yawning, so I suggested we all head to bed…not that I had any intention of leaving her side.

I hugged Shana and Raya and watched as they gave Kimber their good nights. Aja tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, "What about you, Jerrica?"

"I'll be staying up with her in here."

She shook her head. "You look exhausted."

"I have to stay up with her. Someone's got to make sure nothing else happens."

Aja's head drooped. "I'll come in around three, and stay with her, so you can get some sleep."

I watched as one of those little smiles crossed Kimber's face.

"I need to stay up with her." I said. "I owe it to her."

Aja shook her head, before she said her own good nights to Kimber.

After the others had left, I switched off all the lights except a lamp next to the bed, and pulled a blanket over myself as I settled into the chair nearest to Kimber. "I'll be here all night," I reassured her.

Kimber said nothing, as she looked down at her hands.

For a few minutes, we sat in silence, as I looked over articles about the Hall of Fame induction on my iPad.

Finally, I heard her speak up. "She spoke to me in my dreams last night."

I pulled off my glasses and looked her in the eye. "Who did?"

"You know who."

"No, I don't." I braced myself. Kimber always liked to play games. Well, after what happened, for once I would indulge her.

"She told me you lied. You never did take her apart. She still exists." Kimber began to grin. "And, somehow, she's more powerful than ever."

"You…you talked to Synergy?" I gripped the armrests. "What did she say?"

She sighed. "She said to stop hurting myself. I don't know why; I…I wouldn't have done anything. Not really."

She didn't sound convinced of that.

I took a deep breath. "I would have never lied to you if she hadn't asked me to. She told me she needed to be kept out of sight, and she needed as few people to know her whereabouts as possible."

Kimber face sank. "Why didn't Synergy trust me? I never gave her secret away, not ever. Not to Sean, not to Sara, not to Stormer…not anyone!"

I reached over and took her hand in mine. "I don't know. She never told me why." I tried to think of the right words. "Little by little, Synergy has been upgrading herself over the years. She's far more powerful than we could have ever imagined when we first met her. In the wrong hands, she could be incredibly dangerous."

I heard Kimber chuckle. "I guess I've proved that mine aren't the right hands, huh?"

I kicked myself for not knowing how to respond.

I felt Kimber put her hand on my knee. "Jerrica, I'm _happy_. At least, about this, I'm so glad. I was mad at you for so long. It hurt so much to think of Synergy lying in pieces in a storage room somewhere."

For the first time since the night before, I broke down. "I'm so sorry." I repeated the words, over and over, as the tears stung my cheeks. "I let you down. I let everyone down."

She hugged me tight and stroked my hair. "It's ok, Jerrica. It's gonna be ok."

We both became quiet as I wiped my tears away. In the dim light, for the first time, I could see so much of our mother in her face. "I think we've got this backwards," I told her. "I'm supposed to be the one comforting _you_."

Kimber laughed. Lilting.

Musical.

Fragile.

The laughter broke apart, into shards of gasps and choked tears. "I've been so lonely," she wept. "I just…I don't anyone to see me anymore. But I'm lonely."

I nodded. "You could always move back here," I told her, then remembered to add "I'm sure you can find a place near here, so we can visit often."

I know, from a lifetime of being her big sister, how much Kimber craves her independence.

"And," I added, "You'd be a lot closer to Sara."

She locked her fingers together and twiddled her thumbs. "That's true." She chuckled a little. "Of course, she probably doesn't want me any closer than I've been."

I tried my best not to sound too stern. "You know that's not true."

Kimber grimaced, so I'm not sure I succeeded.

I remembered the iPad in the seat next to me. "I read something a little earlier," I told her.

"Hmm?"

I quickly googled the page. "An article someone wrote about the induction."

Kimber yawned. "Oh, yeah?"

I scanned my way through the article. "Here it is. 'Although Jem received the lion's share of the attention, the Holograms' secret weapon was always keyboardist Kimber Benton. A gifted musician and songwriter, Kimber could make even the most unlikely subjects (such as writing in a diary, or visiting Alaska) sound like heartfelt pleas for freedom and equality. Benton's songwriting lacked guile and artifice, traits which charmed legions of fans, and which continued to do so during her multi-platinum solo career.'"

A small grin crossed Kimber's face. "I just write whatever comes to me. No big deal."

I shook my head. "You're number one. You always have been." I swallowed hard, because I wanted the words to come out exactly as I heard them in my head: "I'm proud to be your sister."

She said nothing. I wanted her to believe me.

"There's a couple more articles I found that are really good," I told her. "Wanna hear?"

"Honestly," she shrugged. "I could use a drink."

I began reading an article where the author recounted her memories of a long ago Jem and the Holograms concert. As the author described her teenaged self's giddiness at getting a hug from Shana after the show, Kimber dozed off for the night.


	12. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

"Hey, Stormer, watch me buzz these tennis courts!"

Sure, I knew Roxy _could_ fly a helicopter: she proved that in 1990, when we ended up stranded with Jem and the Holograms in the Amazon after a storm blew our concert stage away, and we had to work together to make a desperate escape from a band of loggers who were stripping the rainforests. But that didn't mean I wasn't crossing myself like crazy in a cold sweat as our chopper scythed its way through the skies.

"Not so low this time, Roxy!"

"Quit screaming!"

I didn't realize I had been.

I heard Pizzazz growl in my headset. "Roxy! Where the fuck are you guys?! You're nowhere near the target zone."

Roxy replied before I could say anything. "Keep your Depends on, Pizzazz! We'll be there when we're good and ready! Over."

"I think _I'm_ ready," I called to the front seat.

"Aww, you don't think this is fun?" Roxy asked with a laugh.

"I've had funner," I muttered between quick breaths.

"Come on, don't wuss out on me now. This was your idea!"

I leaned forward and did my best to be heard over the whir of the blades. "No, the prank was my idea; the helicopters were all you!"

Roxy chuckled. "Yeah, I know! Well, guess we better not keep Her Highness waiting."

With a flick of her wrist, Roxy sent us into a hard banked turn that squashed me back into my seat.

"Gently!" I reminded her.

"Yeah, sure."

Before long, we could see the second chopper ahead of us. With Pizzazz at the controls, it looked twitchy and nervous.

Pizzazz's voice cut through the static. "Long time no see."

"Hey, we're here, aren't we? Over." Roxy grumbled.

"Ready your payload," Pizzazz commanded. "And drop the 'over' junk: you're not in a Nick Mann movie."

"Repeat last message," Roxy replied. "All I heard was a buncha queefin'. Over."

I threw the headset off as Pizzazz's screech rattled around my skull.

Roxy glanced back at me. "Ok, ready the payload: that means you, ok?"

I sighed, "Yeah, ok," as I searched for the big red button on the control panel.

"We should be over in the target in…in a bit, I think."

Roxy's uncertainty didn't reassure me at all.

"All right," she told me, "I see the target." She got on the radio: "Chopper One, target sighted. Engaging now, over!"

As we began to dive towards the ground, I heard Pizzazz shout, "Who made you Chopper One?!"

I gripped the control panel as we descended. It was my own fault, I guess: I asked that we not drop our payload from too high up, so that no one would actually be hurt.

I nearly heaved up my couscous when Roxy pulled back on the controls and brought us parallel with the ground. "Ok, now, Stormer!"

I'd managed to lose sight of the button. Just perfect: how do you lose a huge red button in cramped cockpit?

"Hurry up!" Roxy shouted.

"Ok, ok." I found the button, which had been right under my nose the whole time. I crossed my fingers and pressed it.

"Drop the payload, Stormer!"

"I just did!"

Suddenly, I felt myself pressed back into my seat as Roxy pulled us back into the clouds.

"You shoulda said, 'Bombs away,' or somethin'!"

I sighed. "I'll remember that next time."

We circled the area for a minute, as Pizzazz's helicopter moved over the target.

Roxy pointed to the left window. "Check it out."

I looked out and saw the other chopper, twitchily hovering over North Hollywood Park. A moment later, twelve dozen rotten eggs dropped from the copter and splattered a few yards from a statue of Amelia Earhart, which Roxy and I had covered in putrid white and yellow glop a couple minutes earlier.

I couldn't help but smile.

"Damn, that was sweet!" Roxy shouted. "Those jerks from the Hall of Fame aren't gonna know what hit 'em!"

"Now can you get us to the mansion in one piece?" I asked.

Roxy glanced back at me and grinned. "Can't make any promises."

I tried to brace my stomach before she made another hard banked turn.

Not long after, we touched down, still alive and mostly unharmed, at the helipad of the Gabor Mansion. I stepped out of the chopper and fought to keep my knees from buckling.

Roxy gave me a slap on the back and pulled me into a hug. "That kicked ass! No one'll ever forget us again!"

It felt good to hug her, no matter how queasy the flight had left me.

A few minutes later, I held my breath as I watched Pizzazz bring the other helicopter down to a bumpy landing. Before the blades had even stopped spinning, Jetta rushed out, tripped, and finally stumbled her way to us. She gripped my hand and gasped, "She's a bloody maniac up there!" before she collapsed to the ground.

As I tried to help Jetta up, Roxy nudged me. "See, you're the lucky one."

I agreed.

* * *

Stormer stretched out on the couch and moaned, "What a day!"

"Hey!" I leaned over and shook her shoulders. "This day's not's over yet."

She looked up at me with her big, puppy dog eyes. "But the helicopter idea actually _works_. What more do we need to do, Pizzazz?"

I paced across one of our many Persian rugs and prepared to set her straight. "There's plenty more. You think a few rotten eggs are enough, after what those idiots did?" Honestly, how could she already forget, after only two weeks?

Stormer propped herself up on her elbows and faced me. "Remember, I've told you more than once: I'll only go along with this if no one gets hurt."

What a wimp. Always has been.

I crouched onto my knees and looked her in eye. "I'm much more interested in humiliating them…especially Jem!"

"Jem? Who says she'll be there?"

Poor, naïve Stormer. "Of _course_ she'll be there! Don't tell me you bought into her 'Woe, pitiful me' act! 'Oh, being famous is so hard! I vahnt to be alone!' and all that garbage?"

She sighed (in an irritating way, I might add), and asked, "Then where's she been for the last twenty years?"

I smiled. "She's been waiting for a moment just like this, when she can pop up again and get the whole world talking about her." Such a great idea-I wished I'd thought of it myself years earlier.

"That doesn't make any sense," Stormer whined.

I shook my head. "That's where you and I differ, sweetie."

She shrugged. "I guess so."

Typical Stormer—playing the innocent for everyone else, while she undercuts my authority at every turn!

If she wasn't such a great songwriter…and a great musician…

If it wasn't for how the Misfits seemed to make no sense without her…

"Well," I told her, as I stood and stretched my legs, "If Jem does show up, we need to be ready. I still have unfinished business with her."

Stormer sat up and adjusted that silly daisy she keeps in her hair. "Yeah, but I don't, and Roxy and Jetta don't either."

"I don't what?"

At least, that's what I think Roxy said, though it sounded more like "I doh wha?" She appeared in the doorway, dipping her fingers into a jar of peanut butter.

"Stormer here thinks you guys don't have unfinished business with Jem," I told her.

Roxy licked her middle finger clean. "I don't give a shit about Jem; I just wanna make those fuckers at the Hall of Fame pay for ignoring us!"

I threw up my hands. "Obviously, you two don't remember how Jem used to go out of her way to make us look bad."

Stormer rested her chin in her hands. "I thought it more like the other way around."

I pointed at the two of them. "You just watch! Jem has been _salivating_ for another chance to embarrass us. You'll see."

Sometimes, I think I must be the only person who _really_ understands how the world works.

Stormer stood and folded her arms. "I still want to discuss performing. It's taken me a long time to feel like I could play with you guys again, and I don't want to spend all our time coming up with pranks when we could be rehearsing."

"We're the Misfits," Roxy asserted. "We'll sound great no matter what!"

The thought of dull rehearsals made me cringe. "Let's not talk about that without all four of us here," I told Stormer.

Roxy stopped licking the sides of the jar long enough to ask, "Hey, where is Jetta, anyway?"

* * *

I sat in the waiting room staring at a naff sculpture of what looked like a prawn while the piece of blonde totty at the desk pecked at her iPhone.

"Is it going to be much longer?" I asked.

The secretary sighed and said, "Mr. Palmer's a very busy man."

I stretched out, put me feet on the table, and tried to think of what I would say.

While Pizzazz drove us from one mad scheme to another, I'd been distracted, as I tried to figure out a way to keep Andy's book from being released. The last thing we needed was Pizzazz's head exploding over a bloody tell-all.

Besides, it'd been quite nice to be around the other girls again. I hadn't realized how much I missed it, and now that we were back together, I didn't want things to be ruined—or worse, to get tossed out on me arse for not stopping this book.

I began to nod off, when I heard a man's voice on the intercom: "Send Ms. Burns in."

"About bleedin' time," I muttered, as I pushed past the secretary and forced me way into the office. Mr. Palmer, a silver-haired git with a black unibrow, stood and pointed to a seat. "Ah, Jetta, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm a big fan."

"Right, well, who isn't?" I put my serious face on. "I'm here to discuss business."

He smiled, and kept gesturing at the chair across from his desk. "Ok, what do you have in mind?"

I took a breath. "I want to know what it'll take to stop me ex-husband's book from coming out."

Palmer tapped his fingers on the desk. "I wish I could help you, but we're not handling that project anymore."

"What do you mean?"

He couldn't hide his grin, the wanker. "Another publisher made us a very generous offer to handle the rights."

"Bollocks!" I shouted. It took me a moment to realize I'd jumped out of me seat.

He leaned forward and gave me a sad look. "I wish we could have worked something out, but in this economy, I just couldn't refuse what he offered."

"Who?"

He rummaged through the rubbish on his desk and found a business card. "Here, I hope this can help."

I sighed, and snatched the card from him. "Well, I guess I might as well get out of here."

"Oh, don't forget this." He stood and handed me another card.

"What's this?"

Palmer smirked. "If you'd like to have dinner sometime, just call that number, and I'll have a car sent around."

I tapped the card in me fingers for a moment. "Well, if there's ever a night when I can't find anything else at all to do, _maybe_ I'll give you a call."

He laughed, the prat. "I look forward to hearing from you."

"Well, it'll be a long wait," I snorted, as I left the room. Of all the bloody cheek!

I examined his business card: "Randy Palmer." A bloody funny name, where I come from!

Still, he didn't look too terrible…if only someone would show him how to pluck that fucking eyebrow!

I had almost reached the parking garage before I remembered the other card.

I read it, and sank to my knees.

Perfect.

Abso-bloody-fucking-lutely perfect.

The book had been bought by E-Ray Publishing.

* * *

I think the thing I'd missed most about Pizzazz's place was all the food: steaks; lobsters; baked potatoes; chocolate cake. It's like living at Ruby Tuesday! (But not like that winter I spent sleeping in the kitchen of Ruby Tuesday when I was eighteen).

Anyway, after dinner, there was nothing good on TV, so I walked around outside for a minute, when I heard music coming from over by the pool.

"Anybody out here?" I yelled out, as I walked over to the pool house.

The music stopped. "Just me, Roxy," I heard Stormer say.

She sat up on the diving board, holding a shiny new black keytar.

"Hey, what's up?" I asked.

She got all embarrassed looking. "Just working on a song."

"Oh yeah?" I pulled up a patio chair and faced her. "How does it go?"

Stormer put on her embarrassed face. "Nah, I don't think so. I wanted to write something new for us to play, but I don't think this works as a Misfits song."

"Hey, if we're playin' it, then it's a Misfits song."

She crinkled her nose. "Try telling that to Pizzazz, when she shreds the lyric sheet into confetti."

"Hey, by our last couple albums, she hardly ever did that anymore," I reminded her.

"That's true." She nodded, as she hugged her keytar close to her.

"Where'd you get the new toy?" I asked.

"Oh, I ordered it and had it sent here. Pizzazz said we could charge her for whatever we want, but I couldn't do that. I paid for it myself."

"Hmm, we can order _anything_?" I thought of how cool a bright purple bass would look on me. Maybe a jackhammer, too—I always wanted a jackhammer.

Stormer kept talking about her keytar. "The old one doesn't really work anymore, but I think I'm gonna paint this one to match the original."

"You?" I asked. "Get it a pro to do it."

"But I don't mind. It'll be fun."

Can you believe her? "You're rich, Stormer! You don't have to do anything for yourself, remember. Trust me, if I had the kinda dough Pizzazz has, I'd hire someone to wipe my ass for me!"

Stormer grimaced and whispered, "Eww." The kid'll always be predictable. I couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, I guess you have more fun doing _that_ for yourself too." I gave her a wink.

Stormer started to smile, "Well, my house has a bidet."

I flipped her the bird, which cracked her up.

After we laughed for a moment, I told her, "Ok, play the song."

She shook her head, "Nah, it's not right."

I reached down into the pool and flicked water at her. "Come on, Stormer, you know you want a second opinion, so let's hear it!"

She sighed and tapped a note on the keys. "All right, but don't laugh…"

"Moi?" (Betcha didn't know I speak French!)

She hit a button, and a sharp, stabbing beat began.

"Nah, it sucks," I told her. "Might as well start over."

Stormer doubled over with laughter. "Thanks for the support!"

I grinned. "No prob."

She started with the drumbeat again, and soon began playing a fierce, spiky melody line on the keys.

"Not bad," I told her.

Then she began to sing:

"Been down on the ground, safe in my hole,

Ignoring your sound, keeping under control.

But the sky is above, calling to me,

Can't deny what I love, I need to be free!

It's time for me to fly again,

Make you all see who I am,

It's time for me to fly again,

And tell the world I don't give a damn…"

I can get distracted easily, but Stormer had my complete attention as she sang.

When she finished, she flicked her hair aside and asked, "Not really our thing, right?"

I reached over and grabbed her arm. "Come on. We're gonna go play that for Pizzazz."

She shook her head. "I know her. She won't like it."

I wanted to tell her how good it was, and how glad I was that she'd found the part of herself again that wanted to be with us. I wanted to tell her that I love everything she writes, even if I don't always understand it at first.

I guess I'm getting soft, cause I went ahead and told her all that junk.

She cried, of course. The wuss.

I suppose I did too, a little.

She hugged me, and I hugged her back. I think it'll always seem kinda weird to me, but I can't deny how good it feels.

"Come on, let's play it for Pizzazz," I told her. "Besides, you haven't eaten yet, and chef made a kickass rib eye."

She laughed as she slung her keytar over her shoulder by its strap. "Aw, I can't eat that stuff anymore. My doctor said not to eat too much red meat."

I put my arm around her as we walked back to the house. "Well, we'll tell the chef to make sure it's well done."

Stormer thought that was hilarious, for some reason.

* * *

I sighed as Stormer finished playing her new song. "It's not bad," I told her. "You've done worse."

She gave me a small smile. "Glad you like it."

"Of course, I'm gonna have to change some of the lyrics," I reminded her, as I poured myself a brandy. "You never have been able to capture the way I speak."

She began to mope a bit.

Perfect.

"So, we're doin' the song, right Pizzazz?"

I'm not sure why Roxy spoke, since this conversation was between a singer and her songwriter. But why does Roxy do half the things she does?

"I suppose so, unless Stormer can come up with something better."

Stormer grinned as she fiddled with her keytar. "I'll take that as a challenge."

Whatever.

I heard the front door slam a moment later, and soon Jetta rushed past the door to the parlor. "Hey, where've you been?!" I called out.

Jetta poked her head in the door. "Just…running some errands. Cheerio."

As she turned to leave, I commanded, "Stop!"

"Want something?" she asked.

I stared at her for a moment. "There's something strange about you."

"Yeah, even more than usual," Roxy added.

Jetta folded her arms and threw her head back. "Look, I've 'ad a bloody pisser of a day, I've barely seen me daughter lately, and I just want some sleep, right?"

I waved her away, "All right, all right, just don't bother me with it."

"Fine." She turned and left.

"What's her problem?" Roxy spat.

Stormer stood and laid her keytar aside. "Maybe I should go talk to her."

Hasn't she learned anything after all these years? "She said she just wanted some sleep."

"Yeah," Roxy piped up, "what's the point of bugging her?"

Stormer rested her chin in her hands. "Yeah, ok."

As Roxy started babbling about how much fun she had flying helicopters that morning, I checked my text messages. There were still so many reporters trying to get me to tip my hand about how I'd get back at the Hall of Fame. If they only knew…

Then I saw the one from Stephen.

"Excuse me," I mumbled, as I strode from the room.

"Pizzazz?" Stormer asked. "What's wrong?"

I didn't answer.

As I headed up the stairs, I turned the words over in my head: a girlfriend? I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised, but still, hadn't he listened to me? My stomach churned as I imagined some gold digger wrapping my little boy around her finger.

Surely I'd taught him to be tougher than that, to be smart enough to find a girl who wouldn't need his money?

Surely he knew what I'd do to anyone who'd try to use him?

Don't mess with a mother.

I wandered the hallways, trying to figure out what I wanted to do. I tossed an annoyingly ugly painting out the window, but that didn't seem to help. (Still, I couldn't stand walking past that Picasso any longer: blue period, my ass!)

Finally, I stopped delaying, and headed to the door of the one person I really needed to talk to.

* * *

I must have the flu.

Hmm, that's probably it. That would explain why I can't seem to get out of bed, and why nurses keep coming to check on me. I must be in the hospital.

No, that doesn't sound right. Mother can't afford a hospital. If one of us gets really sick, she'll call in Doc Archibald. He does house calls, and doesn't charge too much. If you're feeling really sick, he gives you a whole dime!

I remember, last summer, I came down with chickenpox and had to spend two whole weeks cooped up inside. When I got over it, I took my little brother Walt to the movies on Doc Archibald's dime, where we saw Errol Flynn flying a bomber, and in Technicolor, too!

I remember, Walt told me, "Harvey, I wanna do that someday!"

I looked down at his grinning face, with his coke bottle glasses, and laughed. "With your eyesight, you'd crash into the ocean the first day."

Except, that couldn't have been last summer…that was more than ten years ago.

I started my own business last year, selling some surplus aircraft equipment I bought from a college buddy. I planned on bringing Walt in as a partner when he came back from Korea. He was always the gregarious one in the family; not like me at all. I knew he'd be a whiz at sales, leaving me free to handle the books.

But Walt never came back.

No, wait, that wasn't last year. That was years ago. But I had been thinking about Walt the other day, when I was talking to Gail about baby names. I've been so busy lately that the due date's snuck up on me, and I've barely talked to her about it.

I suggested "Walter" if it was a boy. Gail rolled her eyes and laughed. "Harvey, dear, that's so frightfully old fashioned! I want my baby to take the world by storm—can you see a "Walter" doing that in this day and age? Just leave this to me, ok?"

I couldn't help but agree.

I feel so tired.

I wonder what Mother will bring me for dinner? When I'm feeling sick, she'll make me a special batch of goulash. She says it's what her mother made for her, back in the old country.

One night, a couple years ago, when I had the measles, she brought me a veritable goulash feast. After I finished every morsel, I got out of bed to use the bathroom. I poked my head into the kitchen, where I saw Mother and Walt, eating a thin broth with some bread for dinner.

The goulash never tasted quite as good after that.

Funny, it seems like only yesterday, but it couldn't have been. It was only an hour ago that I bumped into that pesky maid of ours, Matilda.

She told me, "That Phyllis is a nightmare! Mr. Gabor, you've got to do something about her-I caught her driving her motor scooter up the stairs this morning! She's a menace!"

"She's so like her mother," was all I could say.

Sometimes, I can't bear how alike they are.

The door just opened. Looks like the nurse is back again. I put my hand on my elbow to hide it. I just know she's gonna want to stick me with needles.

But she sits down next to me and takes my hand in hers, and I realize, it's not a nurse, it's Gail. I guess she knows I haven't been feeling well. I'm actually surprised she still cares.

Maybe there's some hope after all.

She's talking to me, telling me about her day, but I'm not quite following her. I guess that's part of the problem: I don't listen enough. But there's just so much work to be done, and I'm the only one who can handle it all. I wish she understood.

Still, it's nice to hold her hand again. We need to do this more often…

Gail tells me…Gail tells me…

Who's Gail?

At least Mother's finally here. She's talking to me, and rubbing my hand, and I think I'm already beginning to feel better. I think I've been sleeping all day: I bet I've already missed _Superman._ I hope she woke me up in time to listen to _Little Orphan Annie_. Walt never remembers to tell me all the good parts whenever I miss it.

I want to tell Mother that we should have goulash one night soon—all of us, even if it means we have to stick to broth and water for the rest of the week.

Except, she's not Mother at all, is she? I can't quite place her, except that she's pretty, and she smiles at me, and I know sometimes she gives me hugs. She must know me…she must be important…

I just can't remember.

I must be sicker than I thought.

Still, it's nice to have anybody hold your hand. Somehow, I feel I haven't done that enough.

Something in the back of my mind's telling me there's a lot of things I haven't done enough.

Still, I'm young. There's lots of time.

* * *

Daddy's been sick for a while. One of secretaries told me he seemed to have trouble remembering things, but I figured she was just too dumb to understand him. Daddy never forgets a thing. He might ignore, but he never forgets.

Five years ago, he showed up at his old office building and got into an argument with the Ourspace executive who was eating at what used to be Daddy's private table, before our company moved to a new headquarters over a decade ago.

Still, I didn't think it was that big a deal, until a couple months later, when Stephen said hello to him at breakfast, and Daddy didn't recognize him.

I wouldn't say Daddy had been a doting grandfather, but he actually tried to do things with Stephen: he taught him how to ride a horse, and how to play golf, and how to tie a tie, and lots of boring but useful stuff. More than he ever did for me.

As Daddy aged, at times he'd even get misty-eyed talking about his grandson. It freaked me out a little.

The day after that breakfast, I took him to the doctor, who gave us the bad news. Daddy tried to ignore it, and he went back to work like normal. But he couldn't make decisions that made sense anymore, and I had to bring in new people to run things for us.

So, now he lives in his room. We have a staff of nurses who look after him, making sure he doesn't hurt himself or do anything crazy.

He doesn't speak anymore—I don't know if he can't, or if he just doesn't want to. I don't think I wanna know.

This day, like every day, I stopped by his room, told the nurse to take a hike, and talked to him for a few minutes.

I told him all the things that were on my mind: I talked about how the Misfits had tested our egg bomb plan; I talked about how much I hated the jerks at the Hall of Fame; I told him how happy it would make me to finally humiliate that phony skank Jem, once and for all.

And I told him about Stephen: how he'd better not be mixed up with some tramp who was gonna run off with his money; how much it hurt that he didn't seem to need me anymore; how scared I am of losing my son. I told him the things I couldn't tell my friends.

Daddy listened silently, as he held my hand and smiled. Sometimes, he'd nod, and I hoped that was his way of letting me know that he understood, that he cared.

When I finished telling him what I needed to say, I kissed his forehead and hugged him close to me, and he patted my head and smiled. "Thanks for listening, Daddy," I told him.

I wish he'd done that sooner.

Still, as I waved good night to him and closed the door, I tried to understand this weird feeling I get whenever I visit with him.

 _Maybe_ , I thought, _this is what it's like to be happy._

'Bout fuckin' time.


	13. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

I watched Kimber and her daughter walk along the beach at Malibu. As Sara chattered, Kimber picked a seashell and held it up to the sun.

"This one's pretty," I could hear her say as I approached.

I felt the heels of my shoes dig into the soft wet sand, and I remembered too late I should have removed them.

Sara glanced in my direction, and then gave me a hearty wave. "Hey, it's Aunt Mary!"

Kimber dropped her shell and pulled her sunglasses down to give me a squint. "Stormer, what are you doing here?" She rushed over to give me a hug. I pulled her floppy orange hat off when the brim poked me in the chin, and pulled her close.

"I called Starlight Mansion this morning," I explained. "Jerrica said you guys were here."

Sara approached with a grin. "Hey, Aunt Mary."

I stepped over to her and gave her a hug. "Wow, it's been so long. Look at you, you're so big now!"

I don't think she had grown any taller than the last time I saw her, but I never know quite what to say at times like this, especially when it was her mother I needed to speak to.

"Do you mind if your mom and I have a minute?" I asked the teenager.

"Sure." She turned to Kimber. "I'm gonna call Steve, ok?"

"Ok, sweetie." Kimber gave her a little wave as Sara sprinted away.

"She's got a new boyfriend?" I asked, as Kimber and I moved away from the breakers.

"Yeah, for a few weeks now, I think." She shrugged. "I haven't met him yet."

"Ohhhh," I muttered, as I tried and failed to stop myself from sounding worried.

I handed Kimber her hat back. We're both pale, and we've been telling each other sob stories about sunburns for years.

"She says he's a good guy," Kimber told me, before adding a portentous, "Once you get to know him."

I smirked. "I've known a few people like that."

Kimber gave me a confused look, before she began to laugh. "Yeah, I guess I have too. Don't ask me what I thought of you at first."

I nearly tripped over my own feet as one of my heels stuck in the muddy sand. "Yeah, don't ask me, either."

Kimber took my hand and muttered, "You should take your shoes off." She then gave me a small grin. "Now I'm curious…what did you think?"

"Hmm?"

"What did you think of me at first?"

I slipped off my shoes and let my toes sink into the wet sand. "Um…that you were a talented musician."

Kimber let out a loud giggle, the kind I hadn't heard from her in years. "Yeah, right. You suck at lying, Stormer."

I could only shrug. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Seriously," she told me, "We've known each other all this time, and this is something you never told me, so I gotta hear it, right?"

I wished I'd left my shoes on. I hate getting my feet dirty. "I thought you were a spoiled brat."

Kimber's huge blue eyes dimmed. "Oh."

"I'm sorry," I sighed. "I mean, not like Pizzazz, by a long shot. I just thought you and your band were all holier-than-thou, and you seemed to get everything handed to you."

"We worked hard," she muttered.

"I know. I know that know. You've got a lot to be proud of." I pointed up the beach to where Sara seemed to be having an animated discussion with the voice on her Bluetooth. "Like her."

I've gotten good at changing the subject. It served me well as a Misfit.

Kimber smiled. "I keep having to tell her to go back to school once the weekend's over. These last few weeks, she's tried to be with me as much as possible."

I put an arm around her shoulder. "That's wonderful."

Kimber shook her head. "I don't want her to spend her life worrying about me." She rested her cheek on my hand. "You know, I'm really sorry, Stormer. You guys should've gotten in. You deserve it just as much as us."

I blushed. "I meant to congratulate you as soon as I saw you. I guess I forgot."

I heard her chuckle a little. "I don't blame you. Pizzazz must've been frothing at the mouth."

 _If only you knew what we're planning,_ I nearly told her. "Yeah, she wasn't happy."

"Have you seen them lately? The other Misfits?"

I bit my lip as I felt myself step on what I hoped was just a seashell. "We've seen a lot of each other. This kinda reignited the old spark, you know?"

She nodded. "For us too. I mean, a lot of it's been…everyone's trying to…" She began to choke up, and I felt her pulling away from me.

I didn't let her go. "It's ok, Kimber. You're gonna be ok."

She brushed aside the tears that had begun to form. "I can't believe I let things get so bad. I just…" She looked out to the sea, and gave a small wave at a passing yacht. "I haven't been to the beach in ages."

"It's a good day for it." I knew that wasn't adding much to the conversation, but sometimes you just have to throw something in.

"Sean and I came out here dozens of times, before we moved east. I try to…try to stay away, now."

I couldn't help but think of Emily, and how empty our house… _my_ house had been lately.

"You should visit me sometime," I blurted out, before I remembered, "Well, once I head back home. I'm staying at Pizzazz's right now."

Kimber folded her arms and let out a laugh. "Wow…I really thought you were past all that. I guess we'd better look out, huh? The Misfits, causing trouble again."

I choked out a laugh. "Yeah…you should probably wear old clothes to the induction ceremony, in case we drop rotten eggs on you."

She gripped my arm and giggled. "You're still so funny."

I squirmed and pretended to bend down to pick up a shell.

"We found a starfish earlier," she told me. "It made me think of an idea for some lyrics, but I don't have a melody yet."

"I know you'll think of something." I breathed a sigh of relief to hear her talking of songwriting again.

Sara strolled over to us as she struggled to pull her long hair out of her face. "Steve needed some help with calculus," she said with a tiny grin.

"Likely story," Kimber chuckled. "Did you know your Aunt Mary's old band is getting back together?"

"I didn't say _that_ ," I added.

Sara eyes widened. "You mean, the Misfits?"

"Yeah," her mother replied, before giving me a wink. "The _second_ best band of the Eighties."

I held onto my daisy as the wind picked up. "Nah, we were much better than the Stingers."

Only then did I notice Sara fidgeting. "Look, Mom, I'm sorry. I just remembered I have to do something…for school. I gotta go."

Kimber nodded. "Sure, ok."

"Your mom and I've got a lot of catching up to do," I added. "We'll be fine."

Sara gave us quick hugs, then ran from the beach.

"Hey!" Kimber yelled out, "You forgot your shoes!"

Sara kept running.

* * *

"Afternoon, Miss Montgomery."

I took a deep breath as I gave the security guard a wave. "Good afternoon."

He didn't give me a second look as I walked past him and headed to the elevator. So far, so good.

Still, security guards are almost always morons—otherwise they'd be real cops. Fooling people who actually knew my cousin would be the real challenge.

I stepped off at the fifth floor and headed to the door marked "VM Video, Inc." I had to laugh a little—so much for the days when my _wonderful_ cousin could afford a big-ass studio to work in.

I entered the office and watched the squirrelly secretary spring to her feet. "Video, I thought you were out of town till Wednesday?"

I tried to behave with the mindless cheerfulness my cousin's known for. "Oh, you know how it goes. Any messages for me?"

She shuffled through a stack of papers on her messy desk. "Mr. Pacheco called. Said he hadn't been able to reach you on your cell, and he left his number."

I grabbed the index card from her hand. "Thanks. Why don't you take the rest of the day off?"

The secretary gave a bashful smile. "If it's all right, I could use the hours."

I glanced up at the clock: ten to three. "Well, I'm feeling generous. I'll give you another three hours on your check—just leave a note for me so I don't forget."

She picked up her jacket and grinned. "Oh, thanks, Video. I've got a ton of errands I need to finish."

After a couple more minutes of butt kissing, she took off. I took a seat on Cousin's desk and gave Rio a ring.

"Hello?"

"Afternoon, Mr. Pacheco. I hear you're looking for me."

In his usual monotone way, the veteran roadie asked, "Video?"

"The one and only. What's up?"

He hesitated, before asking, "I hear Jerrica asked you to do some filming of the Holograms before the induction—is that true?"

I didn't know, but that sounded plausible enough. "Yeah, she's totally gung-ho about it."

"Are you sure that's wise? I mean, with Kimber's problems?" I could almost see the guy wagging his finger.

"Well, I didn't ask too many questions. That's really their business."

"Hmm."

I guess thinking takes a lot of effort for Rio.

"I think we should talk—in person," he told me. "I still don't understand what happened at Starlight Mansion a few weeks ago."

"Oh?"

"Jerrica did something…strange. And no one there'll give me a straight answer." Rio sighed in frustration.

Jerrica doing strange things? Sounded right up my alley. "Maybe we should talk about that. Can you meet me this evening, at Feldspar's?"

"Yeah, ok. I'll see you then." He hung up without saying goodbye. So much for manners.

I gathered up a few things I found on Video's desk that might come in handy someday, and made my way back downstairs and out to the waiting Mercedes. Before I could buckle up, Eric stepped on the gas and took off.

"How'd it go, Clash?" He asked.

"No one suspected a thing," I replied, as I slid back into my own voice. "But I only saw a couple people."

I heard a wheezy voice come from the backseat. "And no one would have ever suspected. Obstructor is foolproof!" Techrat allowed himself a choking laugh, and added, "As you've already proven!"

I unbuckled my seat belt, reach into the back, and grabbed his knee. "What were you saying?"

"Don't touch me!" he squealed.

"Hey, enough of that!" Eric groaned. "The real test will be if we can fool one of Video's dear old friends."

I tapped the earrings that contained the holographic microprojectors. "I think I've got that covered."

* * *

I poured a brandy—my fifth—and drummed my fingers along the snifter.

 _I did not see what I saw._

There were more lines across her face than before. Signs of age, yet they fit her perfectly.

 _It could not have been real._

In the video, she spoke to Minx; her smile gleamed, the way I remembered. The way it did when I used to hold her in my arms.

 _Elaborate trickery. What else could it be? A highly unamusing game._

I drained my glass in one vigorous swallow.

After Jem spoke, that strange little troll, Techrat, appeared, spouted some gibberish, and my love vanished in a flash.

Rapture and Minx had brought the video to my office and put on a front of concern. I find such schemes tiresome.

I paced the room and tried to make sense of it all. A hologram? So what if Techrat can project holograms? What does that prove?

So what if the woman in the video looked exactly as Jem would look now?

I dug through the folders and envelopes Rapture had left on my desk. She'd put some of her flunkies at TEM to work at digging through old corporate files. Supposedly one of her members was the son of a scientist Emmett Benton had worked with, and who had corresponded with him on holography.

 _Circumstantial, circumstantial! Where's the proof?!_

Whatever they dug up, it couldn't change one fact: Jem would never have left me.

We were perfect together.

I grabbed the reams of paper and began to head to the fireplace. But I stopped myself.

 _They wouldn't lie to me. Not Minx, anyway._

I sat next to the fire and buried my face in my palms, as I struggled to make sense of the pieces that didn't fit.

Even if she had really been Jerrica Benton all along, why give me up? No one could be that much of a masochist.

After all, I am Riot.

I returned to my pacing.

 _How could she know that I love her, and yet stay away?_ _Utterly absurd!_

I stopped for a moment, and thought of dull, plain, officious Jerrica. I had to smile.

 _Maybe not so dull, after all._

Didn't she realize how impressed I'd be by her deception?

Jem had been perfect…my perfect appendage. The tastiest candy imaginable for my arm.

But to think, that Jem…that Jerrica…that she could pull off such a magnificent ruse for so long…

Long enough to fool the entire world.

I poured my sixth brandy, and gripped the snifter with my unsteady hand.

 _What a woman!_

* * *

"Kimber promised she'd be here," Jerrica sighed.

I shivered in the unheated basement under Starlight Music's parking garage, as Jerrica, Aja, Raya and I waited.

Jerrica checked her cell phone for the third time in five minutes. "She's not answering my texts. Where could she be?"

"Relax-she's with Sara, after all," Aja reminded her.

"And Sara would get in touch with us if anything was wrong," Raya added.

I admit to being a little annoyed that day. Now that Kimber seemed to be past the worst of it—much faster than any of us would have guessed—I'd taken the chance to spend as much of my weekends with my children as I could. When Jerrica called that afternoon and asked me to come to the office without giving any other explanation, I nearly said no.

Nearly…

"Is it all right if I call Anthony?" I asked. "He should be done with the second unit for the day, and I want to know how he's doing." Once things had calmed down with Kimber, I asked Anthony to pick up where he'd left off on his new film.

Jerrica shook her head. "Shana, I'd really appreciate if you not let anyone know where you are for a little while longer." She kept staring at the wall as she added, "You'll understand soon."

"Well, why delay any longer?" Aja asked. "Whatever it is, we can tell Kimber later."

"She already knows," Jerrica muttered, as she checked her phone again.

"What? Then why are we waiting here?" Raya asked.

"Because she hasn't _seen_ yet!" Jerrica blurted out, her voice echoing around the empty passageways.

As she began to grow agitated, I put my hand on her shoulder. "Seen what?"

At that moment, Jerrica spun on her heels, walked through the wall, and disappeared.

I gasped, "Jerrica!" and took a quick step backwards.

"Somehow, I knew it!" Aja exclaimed, as she followed Jerrica into the wall.

Raya approached me and took my hand. " _Dios mio!_ Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I'm thinking we might as well find out what this is all about," I told her.

As we walked towards the wall, I instinctively closed my eyes. I took a few more steps, and opened them.

The lights nearly blinded me as they pulsed and flickered. First, I managed to make out Jerrica and Aja. Then, I caught sight of the source of the light.

"Synergy," I whispered.

"Hello Shana. Hello Raya," she said in the soft, calm, but slightly unnerving voice I hadn't heard in years. "It's been a long time."

"She's…she's been here all this time?" Raya asked as she stepped forward to join the others.

I couldn't bring myself to move any closer. Synergy had always been a little intimidating, I suppose, but now, something about her seemed different.

"Shana, you're nervous."

For a moment, I couldn't tell if I'd heard Synergy with my ears, or only in my mind.

"Yes, I…" I swallowed hard. "Jerrica said she took you apart several years ago."

"And that she buried you in a secret location," Aja added.

"I asked her to say that," Synergy replied. "I received information that indicated a grave risk of my existence being exposed."

"What kind of information?" Raya wondered.

"I will explain that in due time, when Kimber is here as well."

I noticed Jerrica wiping her eyes. I walked over to her and pulled her into a hug. "You had to keep this from us all this time?"

"It wasn't easy," she sighed, with a shake of her head.

Aja stepped up to Synergy and looked into the empty eyes on her screen. "Why didn't you trust the rest of us with this secret?"

"The nature of my enemy is so dangerous, I found it necessary to limit the knowledge of my continued existence to a single person."

I looked at Jerrica. "What does she mean? What enemy?"

She shook her head. "She's never told me."

 _I will explain all, in good time._

That time, I had no doubt. I looked at Aja and Raya. The shock in their faces told me I hadn't been the only one.

Somehow, I could hear Synergy inside my head.

* * *

"Some days are harder than others," I nodded, as I ran my finger along the rim of my espresso. "But I think I'm getting better. Yesterday, I didn't even think of having a drink. Not once!"

That wasn't entirely true, but I knew it would make Stormer smile.

"That's wonderful," she told me, as she placed her hand on mine. "I'm so glad to hear that. What turned things around?"

Part of me wanted to tell her everything, right there in Ishmael's, but I held back. "My family. Just being with them again, I think. It'd been way too long, you know?"

She nodded, as she took a sip of her Double Chocolate Frappuccino. "I know just what you mean, Kimber."

"Oh, have you seen Craig, then? I'm sure the poor guy's lonely, since Aja's been spending most of her time with me lately." I'd have to remind myself that I owe him an apology.

Stormer's mouth dropped open, her upper lip covered in foam. "Uh, no, I haven't seen him lately. I meant…well, the Misfits."

"Oh…"

I didn't know how to feel about that. I mean, she knows them in a way I never can, or would ever want to. I guess she has a connection with them that'll never make sense to me.

I couldn't help but think back to when we were young, and Stormer and I first worked together when we'd split from our groups. We'd stay up late, sharing "chamomile tea" and writing songs together, as she'd mope and complain about how the Misfits only wanted to use her.

I couldn't help but agree. I never understood why she went back, and why she stayed another decade with them.

Life's too short for unanswered questions…

"Stormer, why'd you go back?"

"Huh?"

I leaned forward and looked into the eyes I couldn't see, hidden behind sunglasses. "You could've stayed with us, with the Holograms. Why'd you go back to the Misfits?"

She stared at her drink for a moment. "Jeez, talk about ancient history."

"Was it Jerrica? I know she can be a real pain, sometimes, but her heart's always in the right place. She'd have treated you fairly, which is more than the Misfits ever did."

She pinched her nose for a moment, then clasped her hands together. "There's a lot of things no one but me, Roxy, Pizzazz, and Jetta will ever understand, because we were the ones on the inside." She gave me a crooked smile and added, "I'm sure you and the Holograms were the same way."

I nearly spilled my coffee. "Oh, I don't know about that."

"Anyway," she laughed. "I've always loved working with you, but I went back to the Misfits because I knew that's where I belonged. That's really the only answer there is."

I leaned back and my chair and exhaled. "I get it. I'm sorry, I just felt I needed to ask that and get it off my chest!"

Stormer let out a giggle. "Kimber, we've had this exact same conversation at least a half dozen times over the years!"

"We have?" I asked, a little dumbfounded. "I guess I keep hoping you'll give a different answer."

She raised an eyebrow, then gave a small laugh. "Trying to trip me up, I supp-Craig?"

I glanced over my shoulder and saw my brother-in-law (well, foster brother-in-law, but Aja's my sister in every way that matters) as he walked over to our table. "Hey, Mary, looks like I finally caught up with you."

Stormer slipped her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose. "How'd you know I was here?"

Craig grinned. "Even in L.A., that's not that many purple Jeeps around." He held out his arms. "Come on, Mare-it's been, what, two months since I last saw you?"

She nodded, stood, and gave him a warm hug.

"I've been trying to see you for weeks, but you keep putting me off," he moaned, as she took her seat again.

"I decided to see Kimber today," she semi-explained, as she gestured to me.

I gave Craig a quick wave, as he finally noticed my presence.

"Hey, how are you doing?" he asked, as he gestured for a hug. I stood and braced myself—Craig's a sweet guy, but when he wraps those big arms around you, it's like being crushed by a boa constrictor.

"I'm doing better, I think" I gasped, as he hugged the life out of me. "I'm sorry I've been taking up so much of Aja's time."

He laughed and gave a quick shrug. "Hey, that's who she is, and I wouldn't want her any other way."

As he spoke, I caught him glancing at something from the corner of his eye. "Mary, what on earth is that thing?"

Stormer gave a quick "Huh?" before she realized her meant her drink. "Oh...just a Double Chocolate Frappuccino."

As I sat down, Craig shook his head at her. "Really, Mary, you know diabetes runs in our family."

"Hey, I saw my doctor," Stormer shot back. "She said I'm fine."

"When was this?" Craig asked.

Stormer hemmed and hawed in her seat for a moment. "A couple years ago."

Craig sighed and turned to me. "You're her friend; maybe you can talk some sense into her."

I put up my hands. "Good luck trying to change her mind once it's made up!" I laughed.

Stormer nodded at me, then took a long, lingering swig of her Frappuccino, and let out a happy, "Ah!"

"Very funny," Craig groaned. "Look, can we talk later, Mary? It's been too long, and there's a lot we need to discuss."

"Well," I announced, "If you guys need to talk, I can head back to Starlight Mansion."

"No," Stormer interrupted. "Craig won't mind waiting a little longer—will you, Craig?"

Craig didn't say anything. He reminds me so much of Jerrica, at times.

I guess all big siblings are like that.

As Stormer and her brother negotiated when and where they'd meet to talk, I checked my phone, and found a single text from Aja:

"JERRICA SHOWED US SYNERGY."

I jumped up and knocked my cup of coffee over. "I've gotta go!"

"What?" Stormer asked, as I brushed past Craig.

"I'm really sorry, Stormer, but it's a family emergency—I'll call you later ok?"

"What's wrong?" Craig asked, as I began heading towards the door.

"I hope everyone's ok!" Stormer called out.

"Sorry, I gotta go!" I called back, as I headed into the late afternoon sunshine.

I reached for my keys, until I remembered my car's on the other side of the country.

 _Just great! Now I'll have to go back in and ask for a ride, and risk saying something about Synergy!_

That's when I saw the pink, white, and gold open-topped car out the corner of my eye.

I rushed over to the parking lot, where I found Aja and Shana waiting for me in the Rockin' Roadster.

"I didn't know this thing could even run anymore," I told them, as I hopped in the back.

"It's a classic," Aja explained with a grin. "Plus, I spent about three days fixing it up for Jerrica last summer."

"How'd you guys even find me?" I asked, as Aja stepped on the gas and turned into traffic.

 _I told them where you were._

I must have gasped, because Shana turned to me and asked, "You heard her too just now, didn't you? You heard Synergy?"

"Yes," I answered.

I swallowed hard. God, I needed a—

 _I know how much you want a drink, Kimber. But things are about to become more dangerous than you have ever imagined, and you're going to need a clear mind to deal with what lies ahead._

"Outrageous," I whispered.

* * *

"Uh, are you listening to me?"

Video glanced up from her plate of grilled chicken and replied with a full mouth, "You were talking about Jerrica, right?" She wiped her mouth with her napkin and added, "You thought she was hiding something that night Kimber freaked out."

"Yeah," I told her. "Something just seemed really strange. I can't explain how odd that moment was, when the light filled the room."

Video tapped her fingernails against the table. "I think everyone was stressed out that night, Rio. Maybe you imagined it?"

I shook my head. "But Danse saw it too. Neither of us could figure out what happened, and Jerrica and the others closed up ranks. I've barely got more than three words out of any of them this past month."

Video put her chin in her hand. "Well, that's their business, I guess."

I leaned forward. "But you've been working with them, making plans to film them for their induction. If they've told you anything-"

"If they told me anything, it'd be in the strictest confidence," she interrupted, as she shoveled another bite of chicken in her mouth. "Besides, I don't want to _ruin_ my friendships with them."

That seemed sensible enough, but something about the way she said it sounded off. Something in her voice…

Sarcasm?

* * *

People always call just when you sit down to dinner.

"Rapture? It's me," Riot announced.

"Um, can it wait?" I asked.

"I would not call if it could," he declared.

I should've expected that answer.

"What do you need?"

For a moment, I thought I heard a laugh in his voice. "I need your organization to unearth everything they can about Jerrica Benton."

I couldn't help but smile. "Ah, so you believe what Minx and I told you!"

He let out a little cough. "I believe there may be some kernel of truth in your suppositions. It may be worth investigating further."

"Kernel, definitely," I repeated, as I tried not to laugh. Already the names of members who could turn up useful information flashed through my mind.

"I shall rest now," Riot added. "It's quite late here, and it's been a long day."

"Of course. Sweet dreams," I told him.

"I suspect they will be. I have much to think about," he said, before he hung up.

I put the phone down and took a sip of my tomato bisque.

Already lukewarm.

"Marozia!" I shouted.

My cook entered, with a timid step. "Yes, Madame Rapture?"

"This soup will be cold soon. Throw that away and prepare me a new dinner."

She bowed to me as she took the bowl away.

I reached for the phone and began setting the wheels of TEM in motion.

* * *

"Mom, are you home?!" I shouted. "Matilda?! Anyone?!"

Typical. My mom always goes out of her way to smother me, but when I need to talk to her, she's nowhere to be found.

Actually, the past few weeks had been a breath of fresh air, now that Mom had begun hanging out with her old friends again, doing whatever middle-aged cougars do together. It had given me a chance to get closer to Sara.

She's not like other girls, at least the ones I knew—the ones who grew up with parents as rich as mine. (Well, almost no one's as rich as the Gabors). She can throw a fit if I press hard enough, but she's also sweet, and helpful, and kind.

She's a fruitcake, to be honest, but a nice one, and the ass is fat, so it's a win-win for me.

"Mom," I called out, "I'm gonna borrow your helicopter and take my girlfriend to the mountains for the weekend!"

I heard a distant voice call out "What?!"

That's more like it.

Sara had come to me in a panic earlier that evening, saying she didn't think she could keep my family a secret from her mom any longer.

Even without meeting her mother, I knew she couldn't be any more of a handful than the great Phyllis Gabor.

I told Sara I'd do the dirty work and spill everything to Mom.

"After all," I'd told her, "If she kills me, then you don't have to tell your mom anything."

She didn't think that was funny.

I heard the voice behind me in the foyer. "Stephen?"

Mom looked strange—pale and ashen.

"Hey, I needed to talk to you."

She shook her head. "You should go. Come back later, ok?"

This didn't sound like _my_ mother at all. "Something's wrong."

She let out a brittle laugh. "No, nothing at all. Just, please, come back later. Please, for me."

I clenched my teeth when I heard a small cough from a nearby sitting room. "You don't scare easily. Who's here?"

I brushed past her and headed down the hall.

"No, stop!" Mom shouted. "Damn it, listen to me!"

I entered the room and found and older guy sitting on the sofa. He stroked his gray beard as she stood and faced me.

"Oh, shit," I heard Mom mutter behind me. "Stevie, I didn't want it this way."

"Who are you?" I asked the man.

He seemed to try and burn a hole in my head with his brown eyes, before he spoke: "So, you're little Stephen Gabor? How impressive—the fruit of powerful loins."

"Eric, shut up!" Mom barked.

"Who is he?" I asked her, as she shook her head and turned away.

The man stepped forward and patted me on the shoulder. "My name's Eric Raymond. You've probably heard of me-I'm your father."


	14. Interlude Three

Interlude

1992

"Ah, you have that radiant maternal glow, Pizzazz. Purple-faced and bloated suits you so well."

"What part of 'We're done with you,' did you not understand, Eric?" I asked, as I waddled my pregnant self across the foyer.

"Contracts are made to be broken," he smirked. "Except when you make them with me."

I found a divan in the sitting room and gave my feet a rest. "Daddy's lawyers will make sure to find a way to pry you out our lives for good, so scram!"

Eric helped himself to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a scotch. (I could have gone for one myself-damn this baby!) "And miss out on our wonderful repartee? You can't expect me to give that up, can you?"

I felt the baby kick. I could sympathize. "Eric, you're beyond boring. Get out of here before I call the police."

"I didn't realize being boring was a crime," he laughed, as he stepped over to the divan and stared down at me. "In that case, you and your band of merry psychotics should have been arrested long ago."

Now I knew this creep was just talking out of his ass: we're many things, but the Misfits are never dull.

"The music scene's changing fast," he argued. "You need my help more than ever if you want to hang on to your fanbase." He then reached down and ran his finger along my chin. "The public can be very fickle."

I slapped his hand away. "We've had enough of you and all that crap you keep shoveling," I told him, before adding "All of us!" for emphasis.

A smile curled across one side of his face as ran his finger along my collarbone.

Before I could move, he grabbed my neck and pulled me to my feet. "Is that right?!" he shouted. "We'll see about that!"

Once I realized what was happening, I did my damndest to deny him the satisfaction of showing him fear.

"Your son!" I gasped.

"What?" he hissed, as he eased his grip on my throat.

"The baby's yours', dickhead!"

I lost my balance when he tossed me back down onto the couch. "You're lying," he muttered.

I managed to smile as I rubbed my neck. "You only lasted a couple minutes, but I guess that was enough."

As much as I wanted to, I knew this wasn't the time to tell him the odds of him being the father were fifty-fifty…

He remained quiet for a moment, before asking, "What do you want?"

I saw my chance, and took it. "You tear up your contracts, and I'll sign the papers freeing you of any responsibility to me…and our son."

He turned away and ran his fingers through his hair. "Deal," he said, without looking at me.

As he began to leave the room, I reached for the closest vase.

"Oh, Eric?"

He turned around in time to see the vase shatter against his forehead.

"Don't _ever_ touch me again!" I screamed.

As blood trickled down his forehead, he left the room without a word.

I leaned back and let out a groan. Porcelain vases shatter too easily.


	15. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

The young punk pushed my hand away. "What are you talking about? Mom, who is this guy?"

Pizzazz said nothing. After seeing the boy, I understood why.

I needed to have a talk with her.

"Look, son," I told him, as I looked him in his blue eyes. "I know we have a lot of catching up to do, but I really need to finish speaking with your mother."

He shook his head as he struggled to process what I'd said. "This is bullshit! Mom, tell me this guy's lying!"

I couldn't help but laugh a little at this melodrama. "Surely you must have told the boy _something_ , Pizzazz?"

She continued to stand in the corner, her arms folded. "Stephen, can you give us a minute?"

"Mom, tell me he's lying!"

Pizzazz spun around and jumped up in his face. "Leave! Now!"

The boy gave me a sneer, but did what his mommy told him, and sulked his way out of the room.

I made a beeline to the liquor cabinet and poured myself a scotch, neat. "I can see why you didn't want me to meet him."

She paced from one end of the room to the other. "I didn't want to risk him learning anything about being a man from his father."

I chuckled as I placed myself between her and the door. "It's nice to see you haven't lost any of your club-like wit," I told her. "But you know that's not why."

"You're being annoying Eric."

"Twenty years!" I said. "You spent the last twenty years pretending he's my son!" I downed my drink and laughed. "I'm impressed by your cruelty, Phyllis."

I always know how to make her screech.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" she huffed, as she looked for a way to get past me.

"I'm tired of playing games here. Any idiot can see he's Rio Pacheco's son!" I stopped for a moment and clarified, "Well, except maybe TweedleDum, TweedlePsycho, and TweedleBritish."

Pizzazz shook her head and held her nose in the air. "You're crazy, Eric."

I grabbed her wrist. "He couldn't look more like Pacheco if he tried! Where and how did you manage to land him, Pizzazz?"

I felt the sting of her slap just a moment later. "In Hungary," she laughed, "A few hours after the last time I let you screw me!"

I rubbed my face as I consoled myself with the thought that she'd soon wish she'd never crossed me. "And you've never told Rio?"

Her face drooped, in an expression I couldn't remember seeing her display before.

Guilt?

"He didn't deserve to be tied into my world…the Misfits' world."

She turned away again. "I don't know why you came here. I don't believe your stupid story."

"Believe it," I told her. "You'll see the headlines soon, and once you do, you'll come _begging_ for help! I thought by telling you now, you might salvage your dignity, assuming you have any."

"Just get out, now!" she ordered. "I don't want to see your horrible face again."

"Then who will poor little Stephen turn to when he needs a daddy?" I reminded her. "You know, perhaps fatherhood wouldn't be so bad, after all. I'm sure there's a lot I could teach him. That is, unless you think Rio should do his paternal duty?"

She folded her arms, impetuous to the last. "Firing you was the best move we ever made."

I poured another drink for the road. "We'll see if you say the same thing after the press conference."

I saw her eyes widen.

She believed me.

* * *

"I still can't believe it!"

Raya shook her head, over and over, as she tried to comprehend what we'd seen that day.

"I guess Hollywood's downright normal compared to this, huh?" I asked.

That got a smile out of her. "You can say that again, Aja. Sometimes I wonder what Papa got me into the day he convinced me to audition for you!"

"Hey, we're like any other group," I reminded her. "Multiple escapes from death..."

"Being held prisoner more than once…" Shana added.

"Getting sent back in time…" Kimber chimed in.

I nodded. "Plus, you know…seeing a yeti." I patted Raya on her knee. "See, nothing out of the ordinary!"

Raya leaned back on the sofa and chuckled. "Well, when you put it that way, Synergy developing telepathic powers isn't all that weird."

A voice behind us announced, "Not weird, just very dangerous."

Jerrica re-entered her office at Starlight Mansion, where the rest of us had spent the last several minutes waiting. "Synergy knew just how high the risk had grown of someone discovering her. Our duty to protect her is more important than ever."

"She looks pretty capable of taking care of herself," I told her, as Jerrica took a seat at her desk. "I've never seen her so powerful."

"Still, as strong as she is, there's only so much she can do with holograms," Jerrica responded. "That's why it's my-our-responsibility to keep others away from her."

"But she has lasers, right?" Raya asked.

"And these new mind powers!" Shana added. "How is that even possible?"

"Daddy was brilliant," Kimber muttered, as she stood in the corner, not looking at the rest of us.

Jerrica nodded. "She's right. Father programmed Synergy with abilities we never even knew about. She's programmed to improve herself, to expand her capabilities, however possible. He programmed her to grow."

"Did somebody beam us into an episode of _Star Trek_?" I asked, but I knew Jerrica meant what she said.

I dug my nails into my elbow so hard, I felt a jolt.

I looked around the room and saw bitten lips and bobbing legs.

I realized _I_ was the calmest one there, except for Jerrica.

I've known her since we were eleven, but for once, I couldn't read her face at all.

"Tell us what the plan is, then?" I asked.

Jerrica gave me a quizzical look. "There's no _plan_ -I've done my best to keep Synergy out of sight, and that's what we're going to keep doing."

"But what about the enemy?" Shana asked, her voice little more than a whisper. "Synergy said she has an enemy. What's she talking about?"

Jerrica stared at her hands. "I don't know. She hasn't told me."

"She protects us, as we protect her," Kimber said, her voice flat and toneless.

I stood and walked over to her. I took her by the hand and led her back to where the rest of us sat.

She looked so tired. "I wish I'd known," Kimber sighed. "I would have helped. I wouldn't have…I'd have taken better care…"

Jerrica put her head in her hands. "I'm sorry, Kimber. Synergy asked me not to tell anyone. Not even you."

We sat in silence until Raya spoke up. "My weekends are free. I mean, I can clear them. I can do what I can to help Synergy."

"I speak to Anthony, and tell him it's important I stay here a while longer," Shana added.

Kimber put her head up. For the first time in nearly five years, I heard her speak up at full volume. "I'll move back home. I can find a place around here. Besides, that'll make it easier for me to see Sara."

A small smile crept across Jerrica's lips. "You guys really don't need to do that. I just need you to keep Synergy a secret. I can handle protecting her."

I walked over to her desk and put my hands on her shoulders. "Hey, you should know us better than that by now," I told her. "Whatever needs to be done, we'll help you."

Jerrica smiled.

"Besides," I told everyone, "With the Hall of Fame ceremony coming up in a few weeks, the media scrutiny's just going to get bigger."

"Three reporters in the past week stopped me to ask if Jem's going to be there," Raya sighed.

"And paparazzi followed me as I took my kids to school the other day, yelling for a comment about Jem!" Shana moaned.

A thought suddenly hit me. "Jerrica…with Synergy's new powers, could she create the Jem hologram, even without the Jemstar earrings?"

Jerrica didn't look at me, as she stood and paced the room for a moment. "She wouldn't do that."

"But could she?"

Jerrica turned and faced us, her arms folded. "Yes, she could."

" _Mi Madre!"_ Raya gasped. "Then Jem could sing at the induction ceremony!"

I know we were all thinking it.

"That's really not a good idea," Jerrica muttered. "You're the ones who made me give her up, remember? You know I can't be trusted to be her again."

"Ooh, maybe you don't need to be Jem," Kimber pointed out, "If Synergy can produce her without the earrings."

Jerrica shook her head as if an earthquake had hit. "No, I don't want to talk about this now, I think-"

We heard a heavy knock on the door of the office, and a man's voice call out, "Jerrica! Are you in there?!"

We all recognized the voice.

"Rio?" Jerrica whispered.

I moved toward the door. "I'll tell him to leave, Jerrica."

"Wait!" Jerrica put up her hands and moved past me. "I'll talk to him."

She opened the door to find Rio, his hair slightly disheveled, his eyes pleading. "Jerrica, I've been trying to talk to you for weeks."

Ashley poked her head in the door after Rio entered the room. "Jerrica, I tried to get him to leave!"

"It's ok," she sighed, as she turned back to Rio. "My family comes first," she told him, as she made a small gesture towards Kimber. "I'm sure you understand."

"Yeah," he nodded. "But this is important."

Jerrica turned to the rest of us. I saw her make a huge swallow. "Ladies, can you give me a minute?"

We replied with a chorus of "Sure" and "Of course" as we slipped past the two of them and out the door.

"This can't be good," Shana told me as we headed down the hallway.

"Unless she decides to tell him already," I replied, which brought a smile to her face.

"If only!" she laughed.

As we turned to the foyer, the phone began to ring. "I'll get it," I announced.

"Hello, Starlight Mansion, this is Aja."

I didn't expect the voice I heard on the other end.

"Hey Gal, I've been trying to reach Jerrica for twenty minutes!"

"Lin-Z? What's this all about?" I asked.

"I wanted to get her comment on the press conference. Still, you were in the band, so I'll go ahead and ask you."

"What does she want? It's not about me, is it?" Kimber asked, as I tried to shoo her away.

"What press conference?" I asked Lin-Z.

"Oh, don't tell me you haven't heard?! The one at the top of the hour! I think all the news outlets are here. I just saw reporters from VNN and Reynard News!"

"Wait, hold up," I told her. "What's this all about?"

She told me, and I dropped the phone.

* * *

I don't like getting phone calls in the middle of the night, especially from self-important fools like that washed up rock star.

"Lassiter, are you awake?"

I sighed into the phone. "Not until you called. What do you want, Riot?"

"I think I've stumbled onto some incredibly important information that could prove vital to our plans."

I slipped out of bed, which prompted a grunt from Vivienne. "Couldn't this wait till morning?" I asked, as I looked out my villa's window, as the moonlight flashed across the Tuscan hills.

"What do you know about holograms, Lassiter?" Riot asked, his voice dripping with the smugness of a man dying to say "I know something you don't."

"I know they're a bad investment," I told him. "No company that specializes in them has ever amounted to much. They're a dead end."

"That's what I thought," Riot laughed, "Until I realized the technology is far more advanced than any of us ever dreamed."

I yawned as I wiped the sleep from my eyes. "Have you been drinking, Llewellyn?"

"If you prefer to be patronizing, I'll gladly share my discoveries with someone else."

I laughed. "You forget who's the senior partner here. You and your friends need my capital to keep your schemes going."

"You'll be far less dismissive once you hear what I have to say."

I can't help it; I do admire persistence, even at such an ungodly late hour.

" _Bello,_ come to bed," Theresa mumbled.

" _Un momento_ ," I told her, as she curled back under the covers, with only her left foot sticking out.

"Make this fast," I ordered into the phone.

"Once I explain myself, I know you'll agree your patience has been worthwhile."

"Get to the point. Now."

He let out a small chuckle. "What would you say if I told you one of the most famous stars in the history of music never actually existed?"

I nearly hung up the phone, until, in a flash, I pieced together a few of the puzzle pieces the man had been tossing into the conversation like confetti.

This could be interesting, indeed.

"Tell me more, Riot."

* * *

"You didn't even tell her? But I thought that's what you went over there for!"

My girlfriend's voice sounded panicky and emotional on the phone. I'm not good at dealing with junk like that.

I paced around in the darkness in front of my granddad's mansion. "Look, I told you, Sara, this guy was there with my mom—he started saying things."

"What kind of things?" she asked.

At that moment, I heard a voice behind me in the darkness: "Relax, Clash. My staff's fully capable of handling everything."

That guy again.

The guy who said he's my father.

"It's best if I stay away tonight. I've got other business to deal with," he continued, as he spoke on his phone.

"Steve, what's wrong?" Sara asked.

"I'll call you back, baby." I hung up the phone and walked towards the old guy. "Hey!"

The geezer stuck his phone in his pocket and flashed a smile at me. "Ah, Stephen, so good to see you again."

"Yeah sure. Why don't you cut out all the bullshit and tell me what you're doing here?"

The guy—Eric—let out a small laugh. "Your mother and I simply had some business to discuss." He moved towards me and put his hands on my shoulders. "I didn't expect to see you, son, but I'm glad I finally did."

I pushed him away from me. "Yeah, I'm sure you did. That's why you've never tried to get in touch with my whole life."

The old man looked like I'd just slapped him. Yeah, it was dark, but it almost looked like he had tears in his eyes.

"I've wanted to, for so long. I can never describe how much it tears me apart, knowing where you are, but never being able to see you! But your mother—yes, your mother!-demanded I stay away, and she told me she'd ruin me if I ever came near you, son. Now I live every day with a broken heart."

This guy was either a terrible actor, or a great one.

"You're full of shit," I told him.

A grin crept across his face. "You're smarter than you look, kid. Well, maybe a more truthful answer would be that nobody's worth putting up with Pizzazz!"

I reared back and took a swing at the guy, but he ducked out the way. I lost my balance and fell to the ground.

"Aww, defending mommy's honor," he laughed. "Well, I could tell you a few stories about _that_."

I pulled myself to my feet. "Son of a bitch!" I screamed. "Fucking bastard!"

I tried my hardest not to cry in front of him.

"You've certainly got her temper," he laughed. "You haven't even given me a chance to make it up to you."

I couldn't believe this old fart! "What are you talking about? Make up for avoiding me my whole life?!"

He put his hands in his suit pockets and grinned. "Being Eric Raymond's son can have its advantages, you know?"

"Go fuck yourself," I told him.

"Oh, surely you don't want to be under your dear mother's thumb the rest of your life?" he asked. "Or at least until she dies from a botched facelift."

"What are you talking about?"

He walked closer, until he looked me in the eye. "I'm offering you an opportunity. I'm offering you the chance to be your own man. All you have to do is a little work for me."

"You're crazy," I told him, as I pushed him away and headed back to the house.

"Think about what I said, son!" he called out.

I didn't know what to do with all the crap that rushed through my mind.

I stopped near the front door, not sure of where to go.

"Damn it!" I shouted, to no one in particular.

I saw one of the large shrubs planted in pots that Mom had ordered the gardeners to put near the door.

Before I realized what I'd done, I kicked one of them over.

I don't know why, but something about that felt incredibly satisfying.

* * *

"All right," I told Rio, as I took a seat at my desk. "What do you want to ask me?"

He rubbed the back of his neck as he paced the room. "You know already: what the hell happened here a few weeks ago?"

I did my best to navigate around the issue. "Kimber's had a really tough time. Things were pretty hairy there that night. Thankfully, she's been speaking with a new therapist, and being around family again is really helping her."

He scoffed at me. "Look, I'm glad Kimber's doing better, but you know that's not what I meant. What happened that night? What did you do?"

"I did what I could to help Kimber, that's all."

Not a lie at all, there.

He put his hands on the desk and glared down at me. "But what did you _do?_ The whole place filled with light, and we all passed out. How could you have done that? It doesn't make any sense."

"Tensions were running high that night," I said, as I stared at my hands. "It wouldn't be difficult to imagine seeing something strange."

"And Danse just happened to see the same thing? I'm not buying it, Jerrica." He sat down in a chair for a moment and put his hands on his knees. "And then you said something weird—something about 'Synergy.' I never understood why you always hid things from me."

He stood up fast and knocked the chair over. "Damn it!" he blurted out.

"That's why," I sighed. "You can get so angry, sometimes. I always hated the thought of you getting that angry with me."

Rio hung his head, and stretched out his palms. "Everybody who knows me knows I've got a temper. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt when I knew you were lying to me."

I leaned forward. "Rio, what are we talking about here?"

He shook his head, as he approached the large photo I keep on the wall of Jem and the Holograms in concert. "Something about you—about us—changed when Jem entered the picture." He let out a small groan, and added, "I know a lot of that's my fault. But I could never understand why the two of you kept me in the dark."

"Things were…confusing, back then. So much happened so fast, after my father died."

He nodded. "Yeah. And then Jem just showed up, and…I'm sorry. I know it's worthless to say now, but I'm sorry."

As I watched him, the boy next door; the man I once loved; the guy who always tried his best to be my knight in shining armor…

Years earlier, on the spur of the moment, I made a decision to hide the truth from him.

Every now and then, another spur of the moment comes along…

"I really thought the fewer people who knew, the better." I had to force myself to push the words out.

"About what? About Jem?"

I looked up and faced him. "About Synergy."

He shook his head. "I just don't get it. What's 'Synergy'?"

I stood up and walked over to his side. "Do you remember how my dad spent so much time locked up in his lab in those last few years before he died?"

Rio shrugged. "Sure. But he was always like that. He always had one project or another going."

A different approach came to mind. "Did he ever say anything to you about holograms?"

Rio stood up straight. "What do you mean? Like, the band?"

"No," I told him. "The science. Light projections that appear solid."

"I don't…" he started, when a strange look creased his brow. "You know, about a year before he died, he asked my opinion about whether holograms could be used in large arenas. I didn't really know anything about it, and I told him so."

I took a deep breath.

"Daddy had a great interest in holograms. I didn't know that until after he died, when he left me Synergy."

Rio shook his head as he walked away from me. "I still don't get it."

Nothing remained but to blurt it out.

"Synergy," I started, "is a holographic computer Father invented. She—it's a she, Rio!—can create holograms of _anything_. Even now, she's so much more advanced than any other technology in the world. She could even make holographic people."

"Wait, slow down…what do you mean?"

"We needed a way to stop Eric when he took over Starlight Music. We formed a band, but we couldn't have _me_ singing, not when I was fighting him for control of the company. So…we created Jem."

I felt Rio take my hand in his. He looked into my eyes, his face a mask of confusion. "Jerrica, what are trying to say?"

 _If you can hear me, Synergy, all I can say is, I think this is for the best._

"I am Jem. Jem was me. We're the same person."

Neither of us said anything for a few moments. I watched his face and tried to read his thoughts. I don't think I've ever managed to get the hang of that.

I jolted in my seat when I heard the knocking at the door. "Jerrica!" Aja shouted. "I really need to talk to you."

I rushed over to the door and opened it a crack. "Aja, I really, really can't talk right now." I put my fingers up to my earlobe and pinched it.

Aja's eyes bulged out. "I'll come back in a minute, but this really is important," she said, as she turned to leave.

"I'm sorry about that, Rio," I told him.

"Sure," he nodded. "Are you done joking around now?"

I stood up as straight as I could. "I'm not joking."

He let out a clipped, strangled laugh. "Jerrica, I saw you and Jem together lots of times. Wherever she might be, I know that-"

"Holograms," I told him. "I wore earrings that allowed Synergy to project a hologram of Jem—even one that could cover my whole body." I couldn't help smile at a trace of a memory. "That's how you could kiss Jem, and feel a real pair of lips."

Rio ran his hands through his silver hair. "That kind of technology's pure science fiction. Jerrica, whatever happened here a few weeks ago, I just wish you could tell me the truth."

I walked over to him and knelt at his feet, as I took his hand in mine. "I remember, one time when Jem hurt you, a long time ago, I found you at the ruins of my childhood home, the old Starlight House. I—Jem—she told you she never seems to do anything right. I asked if you could forgive me. 'Always,' you told me."

Rio sighed and looked away. "She must've told you about that. Jerrica, I know things have been stressful for you lately. Maybe you should think about getting some help?"

"I guess I knew you wouldn't believe me." I stood and tried to sort out my thoughts.

"Well, here goes nothing…"

Out of habit, I touched my earlobe, even though the only thing there was a small scar. "It's showtime, Synergy!"

 _As you wish, Jerrica._

I didn't even know for certain it would work. I only realized it had when Rio jumped to his feet.

"Jem?" he gasped.

"I guess it's been a long time, huh?" I felt myself choking up as I held up my hands. "Now do you believe me?"

He reached out and ran his hand along my cheek, down to my chin, and up to my lips. "Jem? I never thought I'd see you again."

"You're not the only one," I whispered. "Being Jem…it wasn't…I didn't always make the best choices, I think. I loved being Jem so much, I forgot about Jerrica."

He began to caress my hair, and I let him.

"I can't believe this," he said, with tears in his eyes. "This is unreal."

"Synergy," I announced, "Project the Jem hologram separately."

An instant later, Rio stepped back at the sight of my-Jem's image standing next to me—Jerrica.

"It's true," he whispered, as he struggled to convince himself. "It's really true."

Rio reached out to touch Jem's face. She smiled when his hand passed through her head.

He jerked his arm back, then repeated the action. Soon, he walked right through the Jem hologram.

"This is incredible," he laughed. As the Jem hologram continued smiling.

I nodded. "As amazing as Father was, he was so much more remarkable than any of us could have imagined."

Rio looked at the ceiling for a moment, and shook his head. "Jem was never real. It was you all the time."

I bit my lip and nodded. "It was me."

He looked at us, me and my alter ego, and frowned. "You lied to me."

I had promised myself that if this day ever came, I wouldn't cry.

I didn't keep that promise.

"I didn't intend to," I said. "I wanted to tell you—but so many things kept happening in those first few months. It just never seemed to be the right time. And once the Battle of the Bands had ended, I couldn't tell you without it seeming like I'd been making a fool of you. I just didn't know what to do." I forced myself to look him in the eyes as I told him, "I'm sorry. For lying…for letting things get out of hand, I'm so sorry, Rio."

He put his hands to his face and paced the room. "Jerrica," he muttered, "I hate deception, and I despise liars."

I felt my body sway as my stomach tied up in knots. _Here it comes…_

He walked up to me and put his hands on my shoulders. "And I'm so confused, because I could never hate you, Jerrica. Nothing could ever make me stop loving you. Nothing ever has."

The stray tears that had escaped my eyes turned into a full-blown river. "Don't say that."

"It's true," he said, with a chuckle. "I guess I'm a major fool, huh?"

"Not as big as me, that's for sure," I choked out.

He wrapped his arms around me and held me close.

All the years melted away in an instant. I felt twenty again—safe in warm in Rio's arms.

Except I'm not a kid anymore.

But neither is he.

Growing up's not so bad after all.

I breathed in his scent as he ran his fingers through my hair. I reminded myself what a bad idea it would be to get caught up in the romance of a moment full of highly charged emotions.

After all, love's not easy…

Except when it is.

I guided his lips to mine and kissed him, drinking him in, doing my damndest to make up in an instant for all the years we lost.

Then Aja knocked on the door again. "Jerrica! Come here, now!"

Rio pulled himself away from me. "This…this isn't a good idea."

"Rio, I-"

"It sounds like something important's going on. We better see what it is."

I nodded silently and led the way to the hall, where a frantic Aja herded us towards the living room.

"What's going on?" I demanded.

Frantic Aja is a rare sight, and not a pretty one.

"LOOK!" she shouted, as she pointed at the TV.

The other Holograms, along with Ashley, were chattering in confusion, before they noticed me there.

Kimber, with tears in her eyes, bawled, "Jerrica, what's going on?!"

On the screen, a throng of reporters poked microphones in the face a woman with long, pink hair.

"Did the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction play a part in your decision to return to the spotlight?" Lin-Z Pierce asked.

Jem smiled for the cameras. "I have to admit, it certainly factored into my decision." She flashed her gleaming, white teeth. "But mostly, I just want to make all my fans happy again."

I felt my throat scratch as I tried to speak. "Gang," I choked out, "we have a major problem, here."


	16. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Pizzazz can scream really, really loud.

"WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING BACK?!"

I didn't realize it was possible for anyone to kick an ottoman six feet in the air, but Pizzazz proved me wrong.

"Maybe this is a good thing," I suggested. "After all, when we drop our eggs, some will be sure to land on Jem."

I've learned over the years what works, and what doesn't, with Pizzazz.

She gave me a glare. "Stormer, we could tie bowling balls around her and drop her in the ocean, and those lousy reporters would just follow her straight to the bottom!"

Well, I guess there's always more to learn, when it comes to her.

I had just returned to the mansion after a typically awkward conversation with my loving but nosy brother, when I heard Roxy shouting from the TV room: "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

I didn't hurry or anything, since there's nothing unusual about that, until I heard her yell, "I thought that skank was dead?!"

I rushed to find Roxy. "What's going on? Who's supposed to be dead?!"

"Look!" She pointed at the screen.

Jem looked so much like she had years earlier. She had a few extra lines near her eyes here and there, perhaps, and her neck had just the _tiniest_ evidence that she might develop a wattle in another thirty years or so, but otherwise, she had that same remarkable, perfect beauty that sometimes made me want to hide in bed for the rest of the day.

"Have you spoken with the Holograms yet?" one reporter asked.

"I think there'll be plenty of time for that," she answered, as she flashed her ever-present smile. "I just can't wait to reconnect with all my many, wonderful fans."

"I think I'm gonna puke!" Roxy blurted out.

I didn't have nearly as much against Jem as the others-she'd even been helpful to me, at times—but I felt pretty queasy, myself, at that moment.

"Roxy, what in God's name were you-?"

Pizzazz stopped speaking so suddenly as she entered the room, that I turned around to make sure the sight of Jem hadn't given her a heart attack.

Moments later, she displayed her NFL-worthy kicking skills.

"What the hell are we gonna do now?" Roxy asked, with her fists balled up.

"Shut up and let me think!" Pizzazz growled, as she paced the room. "This is one motherfucker of a day."

I noticed she looked pale, and her hair was disheveled.

It took me a moment to realize she had already looked like that as soon as she came in the room.

"Are you ok?" I asked.

"Of course I'm not!" she shouted. "After all these years, that bimbo comes back and wants everyone to love her again!"

"No, I mean, before this—did something else happen?"

Roxy nudged me in the ribs. "Knock it off," she muttered.

"Your elbows are sharp," I whispered back.

On the screen, Jem blew a kiss to the crowd, as she climbed into the back of a waiting limo.

"Where'd she get the limo?" I asked. I know Kimber hadn't even hinted at the possibility of Jem returning from wherever she'd been. Then again, she did leave in a rush, earlier…

I decided not to tell Pizzazz and Roxy where I'd spent my day.

"So much for 'spiritual enlightenment,' or whatever crapola she dished out when she went into hiding," Roxy snorted.

Pizzazz wandered over to one corner, no longer watching the screen as a VNN talking head breathlessly repeated the news of Jem's reappearance.

"See, Stormer," Roxy told me, with her arms folded. "Things never change. It's more than twenty-five damn years later, and the three of us are still here, and there's fuckin' Jem, ruining our day!" She shook her head and slumped her shoulders. "Story of our life."

It wasn't till she spoke that I noticed something-"Hey, where's Jetta?"

"Who cares?" Roxy hissed.

I put a hand on her arm, and she soon rested her head on my shoulder. "I kinda figured Jem's band finally had enough of her, and buried her under the floorboards of that mansion!" she laughed.

"Nah, I couldn't see them doing that," I told her. "Then again, Craig says there's been plenty of times when Aja could have happily murdered him."

Roxy and I let out a quick laugh, which prompted Pizzazz to spin on her heels towards us. "This isn't funny! If you think people made fun of us before for not making the Hall of Fame, imagine what they'll say _now_ , with Miss Perfect Princess back in action!"

When you're a Misfit stating the obvious can be a risky proposition, but I felt I had little choice. "I don't think anybody'll say much about us, now that Jem's returned."

Pizzazz turned and faced the screen again, as they replayed Jem's impromptu press conference.

"You're right…nobody cares," Pizzazz muttered.

Then, I heard her whisper, "I hate him."

"Pizzazz?" I leaned forward as she slumped to the floor. "Are you ok?"

"I hate him," she repeated, as she wiped her eyes. "God damn it, I hate him!"

I turned to Roxy, hoping she might be more decisive than me, but she looked just as confused as I was. "Who are you yakking about?" she asked.

Pizzazz began to weep long, angry tears.

Now I didn't have a clue what on earth was going on.

I joined her on the floor, and pulled her into a hug.

She didn't push me away.

I glanced back at Roxy, who couldn't hide her embarrassment at the whole scene.

"What's all this rot about?"

Jetta had snuck in so suddenly, the three of us all jumped when she spoke.

"Where the hell have you been while all this crap's been going on?" Roxy asked…pretty politely, for her.

"I've just been out a while, ducks. What's the good word?"

I pointed to the TV, as the withered, botoxed face of Harriet Horn appeared on screen, issuing a plea for Jem to appear on her show ASAP: "I promise, Jem, my daughter Melinda and I will give you the opportunity to let you say whatever's in the pretty little head of yours!"

We watched in silence for a moment, until Jetta declared, "Bloody 'ell."

'What would we ever do without you, Brit?" Roxy sighed.

Pizzazz pulled herself to her feet, and brushed herself off. "This is just too much," she mumbled.

"So, what are we going to do about this?" Jetta asked.

Pizzazz shrugged her shoulders.

"You know," Jetta continued, "I 'ate to admit it, but when it comes to dealing with problems like this one, there's really only one bloke who's nasty enough and unscrupulous enough to get results, luv."

I stood up and faced her. "No, you don't mean…we can't do that! I don't want anything to do with-"

Behind me, Pizzazz pulled the TV from the wall and smashed it to the floor.

Her shriek could be heard throughout the mansion.

* * *

"I just can't wait to reconnect with all my many, wonderful fans."

Jem looked and sounded so much like I remembered her-the same caring smile; the same sparkling, violet eyes; the same easy rapport with strangers, and the charm to make them feel she already considered them true friends.

Even though I hadn't seen her in person since I was eighteen, I'd have no trouble believing she was the real Jem.

Except for one problem: the _real_ Jem stood five feet away from me, watching the same broadcast.

I think there's only two words that can sum up that moment: "frea" and "ky"!

"Jerrica," Shana asked, "Who's doing this? You don't think Syn-?"

"I think…" Jerrica interrupted, "I think we need to have a quick meeting." She turned to me coughed. "Ashley, could you check on the girls for me?"

I felt five sets of eyes bear down on me. Only Rio didn't notice me; he stared intently at the TV, periodically glancing over at Jerrica.

I gulped. _He knows._

"Well, Jerrica," I started, "You don't really need to hide anything from me. I've known for a long time."

I soon realized I had been staring at my pumps as I spoke. I'd need to remind myself to give them a good polishing later.

"Ashley?"

I had rarely heard Jerrica sound so small, so…defeated.

I cleared my throat, and looked up to see five confused faces- everyone but Aja, who worse a small grin.

"I didn't mean to hide that I knew, or anything. I just figured, if you had wanted to tell, you would've."

Raya started to speak. "Well, maybe she doesn't actu-"

"Jem is really Jerrica," I blurted out. "Or Jerrica was Jem, however you look at it."

"Oh," Raya said. "Never mind."

"When did you…?" Jerrica stopped herself and just shook her head. "How?"

"Years ago," I answered. "There were some weird spikes in the electric bill. Around that time, you sent me to pick up a new generator…"

"The old one broke down," Jerrica muttered. "Aja wasn't here anymore to fix it." She turned to the Holograms. "I plugged Synergy into the wall for a while until I could get a new one."

"Is that what that thing is called?" I asked "A 'Synergy'?"

Kimber let out a small laugh. "She's a 'she'."

"You saw her?" Jerrica asked.

"Well, it all piqued my curiosity, so I searched for what you were using the generator to power-and that's when I found that fake wall, and that weird machine."

"I'm so careless," Jerrica sighed, as she shook her head.

Shana put her hand on Jerrica's shoulder. "You know you can trust Ashley."

Kimber stood up and joined me at my side. "She's never told anyone-have you, Ashley?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Not even my husband."

Aja, always the inquisitive one, fixed her gaze on me. "How did you make the connection-?"

"I realized the wall was holographic, and that the machine must control it." I looked at Jerrica. "I tried to figure out what you were doing with it. Not long after, I was going through some old publicity photos, and I remembered you and Jem always used to wear the same earrings."

Jerrica pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head.

"Well, Jem used to be such a trendsetter," I continued. "Everyone wore earrings like hers back then. But I realized, you stopped wearing them right around the time Jem disappeared."

"I'm so stupid!" Jerrica blurted out. "Who knows how many other people figured it out?"

"Don't _panic_ ," Shana told her. "You've got us, remember? All of us."

"The important thing is that we get to the bottom of this, and fast," Aja added. "We need to find out who that imposter is."

"Wanna bet it's Clash again?" Kimber asked, with a chuckle, but no one was in a laughing mood.

I noticed Raya biting her lip. "Do you think, maybe, Synergy's doing this on her own?"

Jerrica shook her head. "Ask her."

Raya held up her hands. "Should we drive over there now?"

A tiny smile crossed Jerrica's lips. "We don't have to."

She closed her eyes tightly for a few moments.

In an instant, she and the Holograms jolted upright, as if someone had jabbed them with pitchforks.

"Did you just hear what I heard in my head?" Kimber asked.

"I think all of us did," Aja answered.

"Well, not me!" I announced. "Hear what?"

"Synergy says she's not responsible for this phony Jem," Jerrica replied. She straightened herself up and cast a sideways glare at the TV, where VNN replayed Jem's-or whoever's-press conference.

"Then we need to find out who is," Aja said, "and put a stop to them."

"Well, I'll help," I told them, as I turned to Jerrica. "I guess I should have told you a long time ago."

She gave me a smile. "I was about to say the same thing. To you, and to Rio."

As she turned towards him, only then did I notice that he stood in the corner, clutching his chest, his face pale.

"Rio!" Jerrica screamed, as he slumped to the floor.

* * *

I dialed the bloody cell phone for a third time. "Pick up, you plonker," I muttered to nobody as I stood under the moonlight in one of the huge gardens on Pizzazz's estate.

Finally, I got an answer. "Eric Raymond speaking. State your business."

"I think I convinced her," I told him. "You should be hearing from her soon."

I heard the blighter laughing. "Excellent, Jetta. That should make an enjoyable day complete."

"So," I started, as I cleared me throat. "You'll hold up your end of the deal."

"Well, that's a rather tricky matter," he stated. "After all, how do I know you had any impact on her decision? She hasn't called yet, you know."

I felt me bile rise. "You fucking git! You know we had a deal!"

I heard him laugh in me ear. "Jetta, Jetta…allow me to finish. Once Pizzazz has made her peace with me, then you and I can talk about hiding your dirty laundry."

I gritted me teeth. "I'll be at your office first thing Monday morning, and you'd better be ready to sign the rights to Andy's book over to me! I'm warning you, Eric. You double cross me, and I'll have your bollocks on toast! "

He said nowt for several moments.

 _Jetta, you still got it, luv!_

"When I hear from Pizzazz, you'll hear from me."

He hung up before I could say another word.

I looked up at the stars and tried not to curse meself.

 _Bloody wanker._

"Jetta? Are you out here?"

Just lovely: Miss la-de-da Mary Phillips.

"What do you want?" I asked, as she crept up to me, shivering.

"Pizzazz is looking for you. She's out for blood, threatening revenge on the whole world," Stormer sighed. "And, you know…breaking stuff. I could use your help."

"That's a new one, ducks," I laughed.

She grinned, just a tiny bit. "You're the only other one who's…reasonable," she told me. "I might have a chance of calming her down and getting her to sleep on it, but I'll need your help."

I shook me head. "Fine lot of help I am," I mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. All right, lead the way, luv," I told her, as I patted her on her on the shoulder.

"Jetta?" Stormer asked, as we headed back to the house.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think that's really Jem?"

I bit me lip. Eric had told me about his bonkers plan—the broad strokes, anyroad—but I knew bugger all about what his real goal might be.

I just knew getting us back under his scaly wing was only the beginning.

"Stormer, I haven't the foggiest."

She stopped for a moment and stared at me. "This all seems wrong. Something weird's going on."

She didn't know the half of it.

I braced meself as we returned to the mansion, to be greeted by the sight of Pizzazz attacking her dad's antique table with a chainsaw.

* * *

I jumped out of the way of Techrat's little blood testing device as it reached for my leg.

"It's me, darling Techie! You'll let _me_ in, won't you?" I purred. "Don't leave me waiting out here all night, in the cold."

I heard the locks click, and the door swung open.

Doors always open for me, in the end.

"Techie, are you in here?" I asked, as I entered the darkened building.

I heard his voice hiss from somewhere off to my right. "I'm very busy this evening, Minx. Can we speak some other time?"

"I thought you always had time for me?" I saw him move among the shadows, and followed him as he disappeared into another room…

The room with that absurd, yet amazing new machine.

"I saw the news, earlier," I told him. "You're behind it, aren't you?"

He didn't look at me (What kind of man wouldn't want to gaze at my still well-built figure? I know he's straight—he proved that to me many times!) as he fiddled with a piece of equipment, while the dead-eyed face on his hologram machine. "I've been here all day. Whatever you're talking about, I doubt very much it could have involved me."

" _Lügner_! You know exactly what I mean! Jem—she held a press conference!"

Techrat turned to me and tried to hide his grin. "My, my. I heard she disappeared many years ago. Quite remarkable, that she's returned."

I put my arm around his shoulders. "Yes, very remarkable. And I'm sure your little friend, 'Irritator,' projected her image."

"Obstructor!" he growled, as he pushed me away. He walked over to the pulsating computer and tapped at the keys.

"Of course," I told him, as I leaned against the monstrosity, "You'll tell me what Eric's plan is, and why he wants people to think Jem's returned."

It's not easy to catch Techrat off-guard, but that's why I'm Minx, and you're not! He gave a surprised look before he regained his blasé pose. "What makes you think Eric's involved?"

"You have no reason to play silly games involving that powder puff. Eric's the one who's always had an obsession with making Jerrica Benton and her company look bad. But _why_ , Techie?"

He playacted an exaggerated shrug. "Maybe Jem really has returned?"

I laughed so hard, I nearly threw out my back. "We both know there is no Jem. There never was." I ran my fingers across the shaved part of his scalp. "Perhaps we can find a way to work together on this scheme?"

"Why would I want to do that?" he asked, as he caressed Obstructor's metal frame.

I swear, on the name of the Stingers, the machine moaned!

"I may have been too hasty when I broke things off, so many years ago," I told him with a smile.

His eyes narrowed. "I seem to recall being the one who broke things off, Minx."

I dug my fingernails into that infernal computer. "Are we going to have this argument _again_ , after fifteen years?!"

"Who's arguing?" he replied, calmly. "I simply stated a fact."

My heart began to race as I clenched my fists. "You and your facts, and your observations, and your theorems! There's more to science than raw data, and there's a hell of a lot more to women!"

"What makes you think I don't know about women?" he replied, with a snarl. "I can make a perfect replica of one anytime I like, with Obstructor here."

As he patted his machine with satisfaction, I grabbed his jacket by the lapels, pulled him close to me, and kissed him with enough force to knock us both to the floor.

When I finally eased off, I asked him, "Can your holographic women do that?"

"Give me a few years," he deadpanned.

I slapped him across the face.

He bit me on the chest.

Ok, if you want to get all the dirty details, you'll have to buy my memoirs. I'm not going to give away the juicy parts for free! I have an expensive lifestyle to maintain, after all.

* * *

I hate that with every passing year, I find myself spending a little more time in waiting rooms.

As soon as I had called 911, Rio pulled himself to his feet and shrugged off Jerrica's attempts to help him, as he protested he was fine.

That's what Anthony insisted when he had _his_ heart attack, and I nearly lost him…

By the time the ambulance arrived, Rio's continued wooziness forced him to go along with them.

It took me a few minutes to regain _my_ breath after Aja rushed us to the hospital in the Rockin' Roadster.

As we waited on the couch for word from the doctor, I kept my arm around Jerrica's waist and kept telling her he'd be ok.

"This is my fault," she muttered, looking off into the distance. "My fault."

"That's not true," I told her. "It was all just…bad timing."

"Shana's right," Raya added, as she sipped her coffee while slouching against a nearby wall. "Don't be so hard on yourself."

Kimber, on Jerrica's other side, nodded. "Trust me, the worst thing you can do is beat yourself up. Let's just hope for some good news, ok?"

Jerrica let out a sigh.

I wanted to ask her about her talk with Rio: How did he react when he heard the news? What words passed between them? How had it all made her feel? And, how did she feel about him?

That would have to wait for another day.

On the other side of the room, Aja paced from one end to another, glancing up at the clock every few moments.

I recognized the glare on her face: "I'm busy thinking. Talk to me when I'm done."

About an hour after we arrived, the doctor finally returned. "He asking to see Jerrica," Lela told us. It was no coincidence that one of our oldest Starlight girls had treated Rio—Aja called her soon after Rio collapsed, and Lela told her she'd see him as soon as she could.

Jerrica jumped to her feet. "Is he all right?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"It's ok, he doing well," Lela assured her. "He had a _very_ minor heart attack. He's going to need rest for the next few days, and he needs to make some changes to his diet, but he should be back to normal in a few weeks."

As Jerrica exhaled, I thought back to the past year and a half with me and Anthony.

Nothing's ever quite normal again.

Jerrica squeezed Lela into a tight hug, and soon she disappeared into Rio's room.

As Kimber and Raya spoke with Lela for a few minutes, I slipped into the hall and made a quick phone call.

"Hello?" came a groggy voice on the other end.

"It's me, honey," I told Anthony.

"Shana? What's going on? I was sleeping. We've got an early morning shooting near Arles."

"It's been a long, rough night, and I just wish I could curl up next to you," I sighed.

He yawned, and said, "I wish for that every day, baby. Soon, ok? What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow," I said. "I'm sure you'll see some of it on the news in the morning."

"Uh oh—well I'm awake now, so I'm happy to listen."

At that moment, Aja stepped into the hall as well.

"I think it'd be better to talk tomorrow. I love you…take care of yourself, ok?"

"I'll try," he said, with a chuckle. "Love you too, Shana."

As I put the phone away, I walked over to Aja and tapped her on the shoulder. "Something on your mind?"

She nodded. "You know, there's two possibilities about who that fake Jem could be."

"Only two?" I asked.

"In the broad sense. Someone's dressing up like Jem-"

"The way Clash did, years ago," I sighed. "I'll never forget that."

"Or," she continued, "Someone else has built their own hologram projectors."

I remember my mouth dropping open. "What are the chances of that? Someone in costume's much more likely."

Aja folded her arms. "But Synergy has an enemy. And as powerful as she is, the only real threat to her would be another Synergy." She looked at me for a moment, before asking, "Right?"

I put my hand on her shoulder as I led back to the waiting room. "I think it's been a long, long night for all of us!"

* * *

I'd never seen Rio in a hospital bed before.

Actually, that's not true: years ago, I saw him when he broke his leg after a racecar crashed into the platform he stood on. We realized later it had been the result of one of Eric Raymond's dirty deals…

This was different though. He looked like he'd been trapped in a spider-web, with tubes seeming to snake over half his body. He stared at the ceiling, as he sighed with frustration.

"Rio?"

"Hey, Jerrica." He turned his head and managed a small smile. "The bed's comfortable, but the room service is lousy."

I reached over and took his hand in mine. For a moment, he seemed to have trouble squeezing his grip closed, but soon my hand seemed to disappear inside his grasp.

"Lela said you should be all right, soon," I told him.

"Yeah, that's what she told me," he nodded. "I can't say I'm looking forward to the diet she's putting me on. What's 'kale,' anyway?"

I pulled his hand next to my face and rested my cheek against him. "I'm so sorry," I whispered.

He gave a small shrug. "Nothing to apologize for, now."

I weighed my words before I said them, trying to think of the least stressful way to say the things I needed to tell him. "Synergy…she doesn't just create holograms of people…of Jem. If she fell into the wrong hands…"

As I stopped and gathered my thoughts, I heard him tell me, "Go on."

"Ok, someone could program her to make it look like nuclear missiles were headed straight for America. Then the military might launch _their_ missiles…"

Rio let out a small, sharp breath. "It's really _that_ powerful?"

"Yeah," I told him. "She really is. Daddy was decades ahead of his time."

He reached over and stroked my cheek. "And you've been living with that secret all these years?"

I nodded. "He told his children—Kimber and I, and Aja and Shana. I felt such a huge responsibility to her…to him…I couldn't let us tell anyone. Not even you."

He said the one thing I hoped he say most: "I understand."

I remember crying then. I tried my best to hold it in, but then he told me, "It's ok," and I let the tears go.

As I grabbed some tissues from a nearby table, he asked, "And Raya?"

I had to laugh a little. "She found out by accident, right after she joined the band," I said. "Maybe just before, I don't remember."

"Wow," Rio mumbled. I could see the medication had affected him, and he seemed groggier with each passing minute.

We sat in silence for a moment, listening to the hums and beeps of the machines hooked up to him.

"I never thought I'd be here," he said, as he squeezed my hand.

I sighed. "I guess nobody ever thinks they'll have a heart attack."

He laughed, a big belly laugh, and I became worried for a moment. I nearly told him not to strain himself, when he said, "I meant here with you again, Jerrica." He looked away for a moment and muttered, "It was a hard thing to get used to, the idea that I'd never touch you again."

I reached over, careful not to disturb his tubes, and kissed him softly on the lips.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"Just reminding you to get well."

I sat up with him for the next few minutes, as he drifted off to sleep.

As he began to snore, I concentrated on sending out a thought…

 _If you're not behind that fake Jem, who is?_

The silence seemed to linger for ages until I heard Synergy in my head…

 _I can't be certain, Jerrica. My view is obstructed._

* * *

As dawn broke, I stepped onto the balcony of my Zurich apartment (the one I use when I might be in the mood to ski) and breathed in the bracing late-winter air.

I could hear the television blare the news that had shook the world as I slept.

Jem had returned.

For a few moments after I switched on the news, I'd tried to make myself believe what I saw. I wanted to tell myself that Minx and Rapture's bizarre theories had been overblown, and Jem—my Jem—was just as real as I'd always known her to be.

That lasted about two minutes.

I stared at the replay of the press conference, studying her every word, her every gesture—every nuance of her body language.

Then, I saw it, and I couldn't believe how amateurish the deception was…

She had _flip-flopped._ Her smile always rose a tiny bit higher on her right side, but now it did so on her left. Her left nostril was just barely bigger than her right, but now the right one was larger. Even the part in her hair was on the wrong side!

Did they think a man as observant as I would never notice?

I remembered the claims that Minx had made about her onetime paramour, Techrat, and how he had invented his own hologram-projection device.

He had been a genius, for certain, albeit one lacking in taste or elegance.

But to create a perfect replica of the perfect woman, it takes more than brains. It requires an innate understanding of human nature, and a refined intellect.

If he had consulted me beforehand, no one in the world would ever be the wiser…except Jerrica Benton.

I spent about an hour on that balcony, thinking of Jem, and a love too perfect to have ever really existed.

I knew the time had come to make a phone call…

"Do you know what time it is?" the groggy voice on the other end snarled.

"It's Riot," I announced. "It's been quite a few years, Eric."

"Not nearly long enough," he laughed. I could picture the smirk on his face—his default expression.

"This is not a social call, by any means," I informed him. "I want to talk to you about Jem."

Eric Raymond said nothing for a moment, before replying, "There's nothing I can tell you that you can't read online."

"On the contrary, I think you can tell me a great deal. For example, you can explain why you're using Techrat's new holographic device to create a fake Jem."

He snickered, in his usual irritating manner. "That would imply there's a _real_ Jem, you know?"

"I think we're both aware now that Emmett Benton was an especially clever man. What I want to know is: what are you planning? What are you trying to achieve?"

As the sun broke over the horizon, I heard him let out a chuckle. "Why should I tell you? We haven't been business partners in years, and that didn't exactly end well, did it?"

I realized the time had come to take a gamble, and there aren't many risks more dangerous than dealing with Eric Raymond.

"I have some business interests that are soon to make the Stingers powerful figures in the world's economy. Perhaps we could discuss a mutually beneficial arrangement?" I asked.

Eric laughed. "I don't have time for wild goose chases, Riot. Whatever your 'business interests' are, they couldn't possibly-."

I interrupted long enough to say one word: "Lassiter."

The line went silent for a moment, before Eric muttered, "What kind of arrangement?"

Am I not a brilliant businessman?


	17. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

The worst part about staying up all night drinking and breaking stuff is waking up the next afternoon with a hangover and a cut on your arm. Oh, and hot flashes, but that doesn't have anything to do with staying up the night before-they just suck!

Still, no more periods or nothin', so getting old's not all bad.

Anyway, I was moaning and groaning on the couch, and Stormer was shaking me. "Hey, wake up," she told me.

"Maybe tomorrow," I yawned, as I rolled over. "Go write a hit song, or something."

"Roxy, I can't find Pizzazz," she told me, as she gave me another shake. "Her car's not in the garage."

"Which one?" I asked, as I let out a much needed burp. Damn, gin really comes back on you the next day!

"Um, the silver one, with the weird doors, I think?"

I pulled up my throbbing head and propped myself on my elbows. "The McLaren? She must be headed somewhere in a hurry."

Stormer bent down and looked me in the eye. "Yeah, but where?"

"I don't know. I'm not her damn babysitter," I told her, as I sat up and stretched. "I gotta piss. Hand me that vase."

For just a moment, her mouth dropped open, before she put her hand to her cheek and began to laugh. "Very funny!"

I gotta give her some credit-she'd have fallen for that in a heartbeat when we were young.

She followed me as I groped my way down the hall to the can. Stormer closed the door for me after I went in, not that I really cared if one of the maids got an eyeful, or anything.

Only when I started pissing did I notice I'd lost a shoe somewhere along the way.

"Wash the dishes, Cinderlly!" I called out, with a laugh.

"What?" Stormer asked, from the hall. "Roxy, you don't think…I mean, with Jem back and everything…and Pizzazz was in such a bad mood…"

"Just spit it out!" I hollered. I wiped myself off and began pulling up my panties, but that made me a little dizzy, so I just took 'em off and stuffed 'em behind the toilet. A little present for old Matilda!

"Well, you don't think she might have gone to see Eric?" Stormer asked.

I nearly toppled over when I heard that. "Come on, she's nuts, but she's not crazy!"

I had to chuckle a little as I ran the sink and splashed my face. Sure, _I_ had gone back to Eric, but he'd done a piss-poor job managing me. And anyway, I'm not the one he got pregnant!

"Roxy," Stormer said, "If she tries bringing him back in, I think I'll just go back home."

I stopped smoothing out my skirt and rushed out into the hall. "What'd you say?"

Stormer leaned against the wall, her arms folded, as she stared at the floor. "We worked too hard to get away from Eric. I don't like him, I don't trust him, and I don't want him anywhere near my music."

I tried to get her to look at me, but she kept bobbing and weaving like Joe Frazier to avoid making eye contact.

"Hey," I told her. "I know Eric's a shithole as well as anyone, but he's also a devious fucker. If there's anyone who could make our return front-page news, _and_ help us get revenge on those turkeys at the Hall of Fame, it's him."

Stormer groaned as she started to walk away. "You just don't get it."

I wasn't gonna let her off that easy. "Well, _make_ me get it! Yeah, he's an ass, but who isn't in this business?" I asked, as I followed her down the hall.

She stopped so suddenly, I almost ran her down. "It's just.." she sighed, "He just has a way of making a person feel like she's nothing, that she just got lucky to have a manager like him. The kind of crap he loved to drill into us, about what a genius manager he was."

People in the movies put their hand on the other person's shoulder at moments like this, so that's what I did. "But you know that's a load of crap! You know you're a great songwriter-the best, if you ask me."

Stormer smiled. "I'm glad you think so, Roxy."

I shrugged. "I always have." I patted her cheek. I'm gonna find my other shoe, and then we'll go see if we can find Pizzazz, ok?"

She nodded, as she managed a little smile.

"I think she keeps the keys to her Hummer in the kitchen-we'll take that," I announced, as I headed back to the living room.

"I don't know if you should be driving," Stormer fretted.

"Of course I won't" I laughed, as I pulled my other heel from under the sofa. "You'll drive, and I'll sleep. Deal?"

* * *

I rushed out of the drugstore after I spent ten minutes searching for the manliest card I could find, and jumped into the driver's seat, next to a groggy Raya Alonso.

"Do you think he'll like this one?" I asked, as I held up the card showing a team of fighter jets spelling out "GET WELL SOON" with their exhaust trails.

Raya tried her best to stifle a yawn. "Danse, I'm sure he'll just be happy to see how much his friends care about him."

"I guess you're right," I said, as I pulled into traffic. "I still can't believe it—Rio's always been the picture of health."

" _Dios mio,_ it was scary!" she exclaimed. "That's a situation you never want to be in, especially when it's such an old friend."

"I know what you mean," I sighed. I didn't tell her about the day the director of the Croatian National Ballet, Vera Šubić, had a small stroke in my office. Even though Vera and I had gradually become friends, Raya had only met her once, and that didn't go well…

"How's Jerrica holding up?" I asked.

Raya rested her head against the side window. "She's been better. Everything seems to have hit all at once."

"I can imagine," I nodded, right as a silver sports car cut across me and sped into the distance. "Ugh! All these years, and still no one here knows how to drive!"

"That's L.A. for you," Raya yawned. "Thanks for taking me home, though."

"No problem, I know you've had a rough night." As I switched lanes, I asked. "All that, _and_ Jem finally returning!"

Raya let out a snicker.

After driving in silence for a few moments, I worked up the nerve to ask, "Raya? Was that really Jem?"

I guess I've lived around L.A. too long. Even though the Holograms have been my friends for years, I still expected a showbizzy answer from her: "Oh, you'll have to wait until the Hall of Fame induction to find out!"

I didn't expect her blunt "No."

"Then, who is she? What's going on here?"

Raya curled up against the passenger side door and rested her head against the padded part. "That's why Jerrica told me to ask you to pick me up. She wants to talk to you later, at Starlight Music."

I remembered how there had always been a certain amount of secrecy around Jem, but even so, this seemed strange.

"Why didn't she call me herself?"

Raya yawned. "She didn't want to risk anyone overhearing. Trust me, once she talks to you, you'll understand."

I couldn't help but laugh. "You're joking, right?"

I turned my head long enough to see Raya grin. "I never joke when I'm this sleepy."

A thought came to mind: "Raya…does this have something to do with that weird night a few weeks ago? When…something strange happened to Jerrica?"

Raya said nothing. A minute or two later, I heard her inhale deep breaths as she snoozed away.

I switched on the radio and listened to the excited chatter of the morning dj's as they speculated about where and when Jem would make her triumphant return to the stage.

* * *

Some places seem so huge when you're young, but as you grow up, you realize it's you who had been small, and the place doesn't seem nearly as huge.

That's not the case with Starlight Mansion. It seems just as gigantic now as it did when I was seven.

I'd been planning to make a visit for weeks, after hearing about the Hall of Fame induction, but I'd decided to come a day early and surprise Jerrica.

I guess it turned out to be more surprising than I expected, since no one answered when I rang the doorbell that morning.

"Anybody home?" I called out.

No answer. Weird—even if Jerrica, Ashley, or Mrs. Bailey is busy, one of the girls usually makes it to the door within seconds.

I began to walk away and pull out my phone when I heard the door open behind me.

A familiar voice called out, "I'm sorry, there's been bit of an emergency, so if you could come back tomorr—Ba Nee, is that you?"

I rushed up to the door and gave Ashley a hug. "Hey there! I got here early."

"Wow, this _is_ a surprise," she told me, as she hugged me back.

I didn't like the worried look I soon saw on her face. "What's wrong? Where's Jerrica?"

"Come inside," Ashley beckoned. "We need to talk."

That's never something you want to hear.

I followed her into the living area, and took a seat on the sofa.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked. "I know it's a long drive from Spokane."

"No, no," I told her. "Just let me know what's going on. Where is everyone?"

Ashley sighed as she sat on the coffee table. "They're at the hospital. Rio's had a heart attack."

I sank into the cushions. "Oh no," I moaned. It'd been years since I'd seen him, but he'd always been so kind to me when I was young. "How is he?"

Ashley bit her lip. "Lela said it was just a tiny one, but he'll be off his feet for a few days."

"Well, that's good, at least." I had never told Jerrica, but I always wished she'd marry Rio someday. I guess that's how it is when you're young: you want the storybook ending for all the people in your world.

"They've been there with him all night," Ashley said. "I just got off the phone with Kimber. She thinks they won't be back till this afternoon. I asked Mrs. Bailey to take the girls out to the beach for the day."

"Oh."

Without thinking, I suddenly let out a laugh.

Ashley raised her eyebrow. "What's so funny?"

"I was just thinking back to when we were kids here. Often, Rio was the only guy around, in a house full of girls. I'm amazed we didn't give him a heart attack back then!"

Ashley couldn't stop herself from laughing either. "Well, if any of us would have, it would've been you, you know? Like that time you jumped into a bear pit!"

I know I must've turned red at the memory. "I'll never live that one down, will I? I guess I was pretty impulsive in those days."

Ashley smiled. "Yeah, 'in those days.' And how's the husband you married a month after meeting him?"

I patted her on the knee as I told her, "Couldn't be better. He's home with the baby while I'm here, and he hasn't called me yet in a panic, or anything."

We laughed again. "I'm glad you're home," Ashley told me. "It's just been a crazy couple of days, with Rio, and with Jem…"

"Jem? What about her?"

She looked me in the eye. "You mean, you haven't heard the news?"

I shook my head. I had gone to bed early, woke up late, and driven down in such a rush, I never even turned on the radio.

Ashley looked exhausted as she stretched and prepared to start talking. "Ok, you're not gonna believe this…"

* * *

"Come on, pick up the phone!"

I've noticed that any time I say that, the person on the other end never answers. Doesn't stop me from trying, though.

I'd updated my blog with what I thought had been a pretty damn good piece of commentary about Jem's reappearance, considering I spent about ten minutes on it at two in the morning.

Still, the big humdinger that was sure to get my sites some hits would be an interview with Jerrica Benton, or a Hologram, or even…

 _Nah, don't go there, Lindsey,"_ I thought. _She's probably saving herself for an hour-long slot on Winifred Harpo's show._ _She'll probably help give everyone in the audience a car, or a lifetime supply of dog food, or something._

I'd spent the night after Jem's press bonanza trying to get answers from everyone who'd been close to Jem: Jerrica Benton; the ex-Holograms; her former flame Rio Pacheco; her other old flame, Riot of the Stingers; her old choreographer, Danse Dvorak; her former film producer, Howard Sands; her co-star in her forgettable second movie, Sean Harrison; I even called some woman who used to do magic tricks on stage with Jem.

After three hours on the phone I could tell you what every one of those people's voicemail sounds like. (Big surprise: Riot uses one of his own songs for his call waiting). Oh, wait, I did get ahold of the magician—she didn't know anything about Jem's return, but she did try to convince me to hire her for a party. Kinda sad, really.

That morning, I began going through the names again, hoping I'd get a response.

"Jerrica, pick up!"

She's usually a doll about answering questions, but I just couldn't seem to reach her.

After a glance at several other sites music headlines, I found she hadn't talked to anyone else either.

Still some hope I just might snag an exclusive…

I hung up and began looking for Video Montgomery's number, when my phone began to ring. I checked the number, but I didn't recognize the area code.

"Hello, Lin-Z speaking," I answered.

"Hi!" a chipper voice sang. "It's been such a long time, I know, but it's so good to hear you again."

"Who is this?"

She let out a little laugh. "I guess it really _has_ been a while—it's me, Jem!"

I nearly dropped the phone in the fish tank.

I took a breath and turned on the patter. "Jem? I can't believe you called, girlfriend! I've got so many questions. I've gotta know, are you planning on giving any concerts?"

"Wellll…"

Celebrities love to play coy, even the nice ones.

"I tell you what, Lin-Z," she said. "Why don't we meet in person later and talk? I know you're the only choice to conduct my first interview, now that I've returned."

I think I punched the air half a dozen times.

I pulled myself together long enough to say, "I'd be honored."

* * *

Roxy put her foot to the floor.

"Please help me God!" I shouted, as the Hummer roared through traffic.

"Eh, don't get all dramatic, Stormer," Roxy laughed.

"Look out!" I warned her, as she nearly flattened a Prius that got in her way.

"Lighten up," she groaned. "This is why we stopped going on road trips, you know?"

"I'd just like to find Pizzazz while I'm in one piece, is all," I told her. Letting Roxy drive after I gassed the Hummer up hadn't been my greatest idea.

Grinning, she switched lanes suddenly to a chorus of honking horns.

Roxy rolled down the window and shook her fist at our neighbors on the freeway.

"I don't know what they're so mad about—I used my blinker!"

"No," I told her, "That switch you keep flipping is for flashing the brights."

I think she actually looked embarrassed, which isn't an everyday sight with her.

"Damn, you really think Pizzazz would try making a deal with Eric?" Roxy asked, as she took her eyes off the road so she could get some A/C in her face.

"Realistically, when it comes to Pizzazz, anything's possible," I sighed.

I closed my eyes as we came inches from rear-ending a Bug.

"VW dorks are begging to end up in a coffin, driving those little shitboxes!" she shouted.

Every time I let Roxy drive, it seems to go this way.

Survival's the main goal when it comes to riding with her.

Miraculously, once the initial terror subsides, I find myself enjoying every minute.

Although, that terror can be a real doozy…

Roxy grinned and announced, "Hey, watch this!" as she crossed three lanes of traffic in about three seconds.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna close my eyes for a while," I told her. "Let me know when we're there."

"Wuss!" she laughed.

I can't deny it…even when I'm sorta kinda having fun.

"Lucky thing I'm here," she boasted. "We'll find Pizzazz in record time!"

Damn, I know it sounds crazy, but she's right: I'm lucky she's there with me.

* * *

My brain doesn't seem to work well after thirty hours with no sleep, weak hospital coffee, and half a bag of Cheetos from the vending machine.

I thumbed my way through the year-old copy of _Illustrated Sports_ I'd already read twice from cover to cover that night, as Jerrica slept on the couch next to me.

It had been hours since she sent the others to contact our friends and summon them to a meeting at Starlight Music that evening.

She asked me to bring my husband to the meeting.

I knew what she must be planning.

I didn't tell her he already knew everything.

As I scanned over the profile of second-generation Indy 500 champ Mickey Grandzetti, I heard a voice call to me: "Hey, any better?"

I tossed the magazine down and rushed to Craig's arms. "He's doing better, thankfully," I told him, as I rested my head against his chest.

"That's great," he said, "But, really, I meant you, Aja."

I gestured towards Jerrica. "She had a rough night."

"I understand," Craig nodded, as he touched my chin. "But what about _you_?"

I gritted my teeth. "I'm fine."

He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me tight.

I let out a chuckle. "How'd you know I needed one of those?"

"Phillips family secret," he told me with a wink. "So, I know you, and I know what you've been thinking about."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah," he said, as he leaned in to whisper. "You want to find out who's pretending to be Jem."

"Sometimes, I get tired of you being right," I told him.

Craig shrugged. "Wanna get a divorce?"

I wrapped my arm around him and patted him on his not-quite-as-firm-as-it-used-to-be behind. "Not on your life, mister."

He smiled as he gave me a kiss on the forehead. "So…any theories?"

I glanced over at Jerrica, to see her dozing peacefully.

"Yeah, I do. I think it's got something to do with Eric Raymond."

Craig raised an eyebrow. "Eric? The guy's a scumbag, but I don't know why he'd go to the trouble."

"Trouble's reason enough, for him," I replied.

Craig shook his head. "Where could he even find someone to pull off something like that?"

I laughed. "Yeah, I guess you were out of the country during the great Jem hoax of 1987."

"Huh?"

I shrugged. "The point is, nobody hated us more than him, and if someone's out to cause us trouble, he's my first suspect."

"Well, the case can wait, Sherlock," Craig said, as he stroked my hair, "You just need some rest."

I sighed. "I must look like hell."

"Never," he laughed. "You're always beautiful."

I hugged him tightly. "I do get tired of you being right…"

* * *

I entered the ugly office building with dark sunglasses on, and my hair tucked inside a hat.

For once, I didn't want anyone to recognize me.

I soon found myself on the fifth floor, outside the offices of E-Ray Enterprises.

I felt sick.

I knew I should just turn around and walk out of there, and never think of Eric again…

 _And let Jem be the world's sweetheart all over again?_

I dug my nails into my palms-not again, not after all these years! Never, never, never again!

Raising a kid's all right, most of the time. So's looking after a company, and managing the family holdings. But what good is it when the world tells you, "You sucked, Pizzazz!"? How am I supposed to live that down?

How am I supposed to smile and act like nothing wrong when everyone gushes about how wonderful Jem and the Holograms were?

How do I stop thinking of all the embarrassment she caused me?

I turned the handle and stormed inside.

"Where's Eric?!" I shouted.

The little redhead at the desk jumped up and tried to stop me. "Ma'am, Mr. Raymond's in a meeting. Do you have an appointment?"

Who did this twerp think she was dealing with?

"Outta my way, carrot top," I snarled, as I pushed her aside. I flung upon the door and called out, "ERIC!"

Typical of him, the weasel jumped to his feet liked he'd been shot. He glanced at a woman who's back was to me, as he then ran his hands through his hair before gasping, "In all these years, haven't you ever learned how to knock?"

I slammed the door shut behind me. "We need to talk…now."

He grinned, exposing the gleaming caps on his teeth. "What a coincidence-we were just mentioning you."

"I don't have time for cryptic bullshit," I told him, as I walked up to the dark-haired woman who seemed to keep sinking into her chair. "Look, lady, whatever's going on, it can wait. Eric and-"

She turned around and gave me the most sheepish grin I'd ever seen. "'Ello, luv."

"Jetta?" I whispered. I remember, I whispered. I don't ever whisper, but I whispered that day…

"We were just discussing some business," Eric laughed, as he poured himself a drink. "Care for a brandy, Pizzazz? Promise not to throw it at my head, will you?"

I circled around Jetta. "What are you doing here? Why are you with _him_?"

Jetta stared at her hands. "Probably the same reason as you, mate…to find a way to deal with Jem."

"That is why you're here, isn't it?" Eric butted in, as he handed me a snifter. "Unless you'd like to continue our little conversation from last night?"

I took a sip and spit it out on his carpet. "Whatever you paid for this, you got hosed, Eric."

He took a seat at his desk and tented his fingers together. "There, don't you feel better? Now that you've got that out of your system, perhaps we can talk."

I leaned against his desk and gave him a glare. It's all he deserves. "Jetta's right," I muttered.

Jetta perked up. "I am?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "It's bad enough we get left out of the Hall of Fame, but now Jem's back too? That's too damn much."

"I see," Eric laughed, as he put his feet up on the desk. "And what do you expect me to do about it?"

I looked at the gold records on the wall (some of which should be in _my_ mansion), the potted plants, the floor…anything but him. "I know you can come up with a way to ruin her comeback."

He shrugged. "So? Why should I? What's in it for me?"

I forced myself to hold my head up high. "The Misfits are going to reunite. Were' gonna make this whole fuckin' world remember who we are!" I swallowed hard as I added, "Ruin things for Jem, and you can manage us again."

I wondered if his office included a full bathroom-I needed a long, hot shower.

"Oh, and you're all on board?" Eric asked, as he twiddled his thumbs. "Of course, Jetta is…aren't you?"

Jetta leaned forward in her seat and looked at the floor. "I suppose I am."

"What's gotten into you?" I asked her, but she looked away. Whatever.

"And Roxy and Stormer? We can't move forward without them," Eric reminded me.

I smiled. "They'll do what I say."

Right then, the sounds of crunching metal and a blaring car alarm filled the air.

Eric jumped out of his chair and rushed to the window. "That sounds like-my car! Goddamn-whose Hummer is that!?"

I walked over to his side and peered down at the parking lot below. "That looks really familiar. I'd almost say it looks like-"

The office door burst open with the force of an almighty kick behind it. Roxy tumbled to the floor and grabbed her ankle, but she'd made her point, in her typically brainless way.

"The door wasn't locked," Eric muttered.

As Stormer helped her up, Roxy pointed at me. "Don't do it! You'll ruin the whole reunion if you make a deal with this joker!"

The nerve! "I'm doing what's best for all of us!" I shouted. "If we really want to send a message to those creeps at the Hall of Fame, getting Jem out of the picture is the way to do it!"

Roxy looked at Stormer, and shook her head. "But you'll ruin everything, cause Stormer's got something to say."

I walked over to them and looked Stormer in the eye. "Something about losing gracefully, or how we need to learn to share?"

Stormer never blinked, no matter how close I came to her face. "I'm just going to tell you, I'm not going to work with Eric again. Not now, not ever. We'll find another way to deal with Jem's return."

She put her hand on my shoulder, and smiled at me. "We're the Misfits, Pizzazz. We don't need him. We can handle this ourselves."

I didn't knock her arm away, or push her to the floor.

I guess I'm getting soft.

"Eric," I said, "Never mind. Go suck on a dick, and forget I ever came here. Come on, Jetta."

"You don't know the 'ole story, luv," she answered, which made Eric laugh.

"That's right. None of you do." He patted Jetta on the head. "Not even you, Mrs. Griggs."

I didn't know why Eric called Jetta by her ex's name, but who knows why he does the things he does?

"Let's go," Stormer announced, as she helped Roxy hobble to the door.

"If you leave know, you'll never know the truth," Eric called out.

"Goodbye, and thanks for nothing!" I waved.

As we turned to leave, he pressed a button on his desk. "Would you come in here? Some old friends would like to see you."

A side door to the office opened.

A moment later, I stood face to face with Jem.

I screamed.

* * *

I stretched my legs as I tried to pace the length of my office.

I took a deep breath.

 _You told Rio, and he was the one you worried about the most,_ I reminded myself.

Still, I hadn't told _anyone_ for more than twenty years. The thought of telling so many people at once made my knees knock.

 _But it has to be done,_ I said, with my mind. _We need help, and they need to know._

I could hear Synergy's reply, as if she were in the room with me: _It is your decision, Jerrica. The time is close at hand when we will be forced to confront our enemy._

I didn't try asking for more details. I know she'd tell me in good time.

Well, I hoped she would…

I heard a knock on the door, as Kimber poked her head in. "I think everyone's here."

I looked out my window at the night sky. "How would Dad feel about this?"

Kimber put her arm around my waist. "He'd know that you're doing everything you can to protect Synergy. He always trusted your judgment."

I sighed. "Not a good idea. Look at what happened to Rio."

Kimber pulled me into a hug. "That wasn't your fault!"

"I stressed him out too much by telling him. It overloaded his heart," I muttered, as I fought to keep from crying again.

"Well it's not like you could've predicted a fake Jem would show up on TV, you know?" she told me. "Trust me, sis. If there's one thing I've been fighting to learn, it's that you can't waste your life blaming yourself. You just have to keep moving on."

I nodded. "We've lived such a strange life," I told her.

She laughed. "But a lot of excitement and adventure too."

"That's true," I said, as I patted her hand. "I guess I better get this over with."

"I'll tell Aja it's time," Kimber said, as she left the office.

I walked over to my desk and picked up the picture of Father I keep there. I ran my finger over the frame for a moment, before I left the room.

A minute later, I punched the button on the elevator for the sub-basement.

I folded my arms and stared at the ceiling during the longest elevator ride I can remember.

When the door popped open, I saw Kimber, Aja, Shana, and Raya, along with the friends and family I'd asked them to bring: Danse, Video, Craig, and Sara.

As I stepped forward, Aja fell in line behind me. Soon, the other Holograms joined her, as we faced the others.

"I guess you're wondering why I asked you here," I announced.

"A little," Video replied. "It's not every day you get invited to a dusty basement."

I looked back to my family for a boost. Aja gave me a thumbs up, as Shana patted my shoulders.

Kimber smiled, and nodded. "Go on, Jerrica."

I took the deepest breath I could manage.

"I guess I should start by saying, that woman on TV isn't the real Jem."

Sara's mouth dropped open. "Then, who is she, Aunt Jerrica?"

I did my best to hold my head up high. "You're looking at her. I'm Jem, and I always was."

Sara and Danse both gasped, as Video began staring at me intently. Craig seemed to take it best—his expression never changed.

"But, I saw you and Jem together, lots of times," Danse said, before her eyes widened. "That flash of light!"

I nodded. "I guess the easiest thing to do is show you. It's showtime, Synergy!"

What surprised me was that the loudest gasp wasn't from the friends I brought into our confidence, but from Kimber. She told me later she'd never expected to see Jem in the flesh again.

I—Jem-stepped forward, my hands on my hips. The doubts and fears I felt a few minutes earlier melted away, replaced with the confidence and self-assurance I always seemed to experience when I take on the role of Jem.

"How is this even possible?" Video asked, as she examined my face, searching for the real person behind the façade.

"And how could I see you both at the same time?" Danse asked.

I smiled. "It's time you meet Synergy. It's long overdue."

I heard more gasps as I walked through the holographic wall, with my sisters behind me.


	18. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Not to toot my own horn, or anything, but I'm a damn good actress.

Well, ok, I'll toot it a little…

Still, coming face to face with Pizzazz again after all these years…I nearly broke character.

I didn't, though. I'm a pro.

"Jem?" she gasped, sounding small and lost—nothing at all like the Pizzazz I remember. "What…what are you doing here?"

I laughed, and flicked my holographic hair at her. "Well, can't a girl talk old times with a big-time manager?"

"Now when it's Eric Raymond," Stormer muttered.

Pfft. I could never figure her out, anyway.

Eric walked over and put his hands on my shoulders, which made my skin crawl. The things I do for money…

"Why don't you let your friends in on our little game, 'Jem'?" he asked.

"If you say so," I smiled, as I scanned over the faces of the Misfits: Pizzazz, open-mouthed and amazed; Roxy, snarling like a rabid dog; Stormer, fretful as always; and that useless Jetta, who took the place that belonged to _me_.

"End the charade, Obstructor," I ordered.

In a flash, Jem vanished, and I got a chance to savor the shocked faces of my old friends.

"Clash!" Roxy shouted. "The fuck?!"

"How is that possible?!" Stormer gasped.

"Bloody crazy, this is!" Jetta moaned.

But Pizzazz said nothing. She walked up to me and looked me in the eye.

"Impressed?" I asked.

A smiled curled around the edge of her mouth. "Why should I be? It's not like you're the one who's responsible for…for whatever you just did."

I put on a grin as I balled up my fists. "It's good to see you too, Pizzazz."

"Now, now, Clash," Eric laughed. "We're all going to working together, so let's all act civil."

"I don't give a flying fuck about being civil," Roxy snorted, as she pointed at me. "And I'm not working with that psycho!"

"We need to call the police," Stormer argued, as she gave me a glare. "I'm pretty sure she's still wanted by the FBI."

"I am?" I laughed. "I'm so touched they still care!"

Jetta grabbed Eric by the arm and spun him around. "Bloody 'ell, you didn't tell me you'd 'ired ' _er_! The bird's a Cobra…a ruddy terrorist!"

I shrugged. "Hey, I'm good at what I do."

"This is bullshit!" Roxy bellowed. "Let's go. Come on, Pizzazz."

Pizzazz stood rock still, staring at me. "Do it again," she said.

"Hmm?"

She put her hand up to my face. "Jem. Be Jem again."

I put my hand to the earrings Techrat had made. "Begin the charade, Obstructor."

Pizzazz took a step back when she saw Jem again, before she returned her hand to my cheek.

"Pizzazz, let's go, ok?" Stormer asked.

Pizzazz said nothing.

"Please?" Stormer added.

Pizzazz smiled as she peered into Jem's purple eyes.

"Do you think we can do business?" Eric asked, barely able to contain his glee.

Pizzazz couldn't stop smiling. "Yeah…I think we can."

* * *

Blueberry Waters had discovered veganism.

"…And I found the most darling purse at this little shop outside of Florence, but then I thought, 'Well, they make purses out of cows, right, Blue?' And you know how lovely cows are, even though they smell like the inside of a loo. But those sad eyes! It makes you wonder what kind of depressing things a cow sees on a daily basis, right? Do you think it hurts when they get milked? I bet it does-I know it'd drive me up the wall if some farmer squashed me boobs every day for some 'alf and 'alf. Mind you, it might depend on who the farmer is. I mean, if he looks like Francis Clumbersnatch, I might just go along with that! Phwoar, what a dish! Well, anyway, I see this purse, and I think, 'I've got to resist, because I won't encourage anyone else to slaughter helpless cows.' But then I realize it's purple, and there's no such thing as purple cows, right? I mean, I don't think there are, but it's not like I grew up in the country, or anything. So, I figure it must be all right, since it's not really a cow or anything. The lady at the shop agreed with me, but she had a bit of a mustache, so I'm not sure about taking 'er advice. What do you think, Rapture?"

I stifled a yawn, always a necessity in dealing with so many of TEM's members. "The important thing, is that you do what _you_ believe is right."

Blue nodded appreciatively. "Yes, yes…and what is it I believe, again?"

I'd never been more relieved to get a summons from Riot. "Blue, could we reschedule this cleansing session for next week?" I asked, as I examined the text I'd received. "I'm afraid something very important's come up."

Blue smiled as she waved her admittedly lovely purple purse around. "Oh, of course, Madame Rapture. I know I'll have lots more things to ask you next time!"

I grinned. "I…I can't wait."

As she sauntered out of the office, I switched on the wall monitor and uplinked with Riot's office in Berlin.

No signal.

"Well, where are you?" I muttered, as I tried Frankfurt, Amsterdam, Monte Carlo, and Venice. No luck.

I grabbed my phone and tapped out a text: "What's with the guessing games?"

As I tried the Stingers' office in Stockholm, I heard a voice behind me. "No games, I simply prefer to be economical with my words."

I gasped when I turned to find Riot sitting at my desk, wearing a suit and tie that would look utterly mundane, were the jacket not a bright yellow. "How'd you get in here?" I asked.

He laughed as he held up something in his hand. "You don't give a man a key without expecting him to use it, do you?"

I had to give him points for ingenuity. "When did you arrive in the States? You were still in Europe less than twelve hour ago."

"I had an interesting conversation this morning with an old business associate, concerning the person claiming to be Jem. I decided to speak to you and Minx about the issue in person."

I took a seat on the nearby beanbag chair and let myself sink into it. "I haven't seen Minx today."

"I've summoned her," Riot declared. "She'll arrive soon."

I leaned forward. "Who did you speak to?"

Riot allowed himself a chuckle. "Eric Raymond."

I jumped to my feet. "Riot, I'm pretty sure talking to Eric's the textbook definition of 'bad karma.' This can't be a good idea."

Riot tapped his forefingers together and smiled. "As usual, only I can see the big picture. Surely you're aware that Eric is behind the appearance of this pseudo-Jem?"

"He is? What makes you so sure?"

He leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. "Because, we already know that Techrat has duplicated Emmett Benton's hologram technology. And Eric Raymond's the person most likely to put Techrat's work to use." He leaned back and grinned. "Plus, he told me he's behind it, and in this case, I believe him."

I couldn't help but smirk as I pretended to adjust one of the dreamcatchers on the wall. "Believing anything Eric says is quite a risk. You're the one who forced him out of the company, after all."

Riot laughed as he held up a small chunk of blue glass I use in "treating" my followers. "Well, I have no trouble believing him, this time. No other man would be foolish enough to toy with my feelings this way."

He brought his fist down, shattering the glass in his hand.

"Eric has no idea what he's gotten himself into," Riot calmly announced. "I shall make him and his strange little lackey pay for reminding me of all these years…"

I watched in silence as Riot struggled to find the words.

"All these years, I spent…I spent loving someone who never existed."

I stepped over to him and patted his shoulder. "I tried to remind you, more than once," I told him. "Love is a weakness a man like you can't afford."

He nodded, looking tired and wan. "Love can be utterly…imperfect, Rapture."

He smiled.

I guess I'll never quite understand. People can be so strange.

"Perhaps a tarot reading would help you determine the next course of action?" I asked.

Riot glanced over his shoulder at me. "After all these years, I can never be certain when you're trying to wind me up." He stood and paced the room. "Besides, I already know the plan of action. We 'cooperate' with Eric."

"And what does that achieve?"

Riot smiled. "The more this phony Jem appears, the more Jerrica and her old group will be forced to react." He stopped and folded his arms. "And then I make my move, and offer my help."

Riot is a genius, but sometimes I think if he dropped me off in the desert and instructed me on how to get back to civilization, I'd die of thirst. "So?" I asked.

He furrowed his brow. "When she does, I'll convince her to tell me the truth: that she was Jem, all along." He beamed as he came to the crux of his idea. "And then, once she knows I know the truth, there'll be nothing to keep Jem and I apart any longer."

I settled into my chair and sighed. "You never listen to any of my advice, you know?"

He shrugged. "If your advice does not lead me to achieve my goals, then no, I don't."

He stopped and looked around, as if he smelled something besides the joss sticks I'd been burning all afternoon. "Where _is_ Minx? I summoned her nearly thirty minutes ago!"

I shook my head as I shuffled my tarot deck. "The best laid plans, blah blah blah…"

Riot groaned. "Well, where do you think she is, High Preiestess Madame Rapture?"

"I hold the answers, even for those who are sarcastic!" I reminded him.

I shuffled the deck and pulled a card from the top.

Card I: The Magician.

* * *

People are strange. Sticky and grimy, too.

Minx more so than most, but she makes up for it with her intellect and technical sophistication. Indeed, despite my gradually declining libido, hearing her talk about gadgets and other technical devices is enough to give me a formidable erection.

(Mind you, I'm also working on a gadget that will be far more effective at helping men achieve arousal than little blue pills ever will).

As I programmed in some new subroutines into Obstructor's voice control command system, I felt Minx drape her arms my shoulders and begin nibbling on my neck. "Techie, come back to bed."

"I still have a great deal of work to do before Obstructor is perfected," I informed her.

"I have something _perfect_ for you, _liebling._ "She took my hand and placed it against her blouse until I could feel her hard nipples, which I suppose was her way of indicating she wanted more sex.

As I said, strange.

"I'm quite busy," I told her. I pointed to Obstructor, since Minx seemed to have trouble understanding where my priorities for the evening lay.

"It's always something, isn't it?" she growled, having become angry for some reason. "You're impossible sometimes!"

"The Hall of Fame Induction is coming up soon, and Eric's plans require unlimited versatility from my machine."

"Hmph!" She stalked off and stamped her foot. "Whatever Eric's planning, it's bound to fail! He has no ingenuity, no discernment, no…élan!"

I tire easily of such subjective discussion. "His money is funding the completion of Obstructor, and much more to come. That's all I care about."

"And what about me?" Minx asked.

I stopped and thought for a moment. "You're very…stimulating."

I felt a sharp twinge of pain shoot through my earlobe.

"Stimulating enough for you?!" she shouted.

"Stop touching me!" I yelled.

She only stopped when her cell phone beeped. "What now?" she grumbled.

I rubbed my swollen ear and pondered how much more pleasant the company of holographic women can be, whatever they lack in stimulation.

"Riot's telling me to head to Rapture's office for a meeting. A videoconference, I assume," she sighed.

"I could uplink you from here," I suggested. "Obstructor can tap into any computer network on the globe."

I patted my creation—I truly am a genius.

"No, Riot will expect me to contact him from the office. Anyway, you're not a Stinger—you're not privy to our private discussions."

I turned back to my work. "I have no interest in your affairs."

I heard Minx stamp her foot again.

"You're wearing out those expensive shoes faster, with each stamp of your foot," I reminded her.

She didn't seem to appreciate my advice. She stamped her feet repeatedly, until I turned around.

"I thought you were at Riot's beck and call?" I asked.

"Bah!" she laughed. "I'm my own woman. Unless, of course, you _want_ me to leave…"

"Come and go as you like," I said. "I told you, I have work to do."

Minx turned away. "Fine. I guess I have no reason to stay here."

Her head drooped as she left the workshop.

I checked the security camera and waited until she had reached the front door.

I rushed to the door.

She turned and gasped as I grabbed her and kissed her.

People are strange. But, I've learned that a bit of reciprocal strangeness is sometimes enough to get myself some peace, in the long run.

Now, if I can just do something about her stickiness…

So very sticky.

* * *

Bloody hell, how am I supposed to follow up that rot?

Anyroad, when we arrived back at Pizzazz's mansion, the first words out of her mouth were, "I always knew there was something strange about Jem!"

Roxy laughed as she parked her arse on the sofa. "Yeah, sure—you predicted she was a hologram. Who wouldn't have guessed that?"

"Nobody could be that nice, that kind, that…perfect!" Pizzazz shouted, as she pulled at her dyed roots.

Stormer entered after the rest of us, and began trudging up the stairs. When Pizzazz caught sight of her, she let out a bark: "Why didn't you say anything?!"

Stormer leaned against the rail and sighed. "What are you talking about?"

"You're the one who spent a couple months working with Jem and her goons! Why didn't you tell us you knew she wasn't real?!"

Stormer shook her head, as she pulled her daisy from her hair and examined it for loose petals. "I never knew. They never told me anything, not even Kimber." She shrugged as she stuck her flower back into her curls. "I guess they just didn't trust me."

"Smart move, all in all," I pointed out. "They knew you'd come back to us eventually, ducks," I told Stormer, "And then their little secret would've been in our hands."

"Everything would've been different," Pizzazz hissed, as she stomped her way around the foyer. "Once I tell the world that Jem's a fraud-!"

"We don't have any proof, luv," I reminded her. "Just Eric's word, for whatever that's worth."

"A bucket of crap!" Roxy blurted out.

Everyone once in a while, the loony tart's right on the money. Like a stopped clock, she is.

Pizzazz groaned as she tossed herself on a settee. "I know exactly what Eric's like—but this is our big chance to finally expose Jem for phony she's always been!" She glanced over at me, her bottom lip protruding. "I _need_ this."

"What _I_ wanna know," Roxy interrupted, in her typical ladylike fashion, "is what in God's green fuck were _you_ doing there, Jetta?!"

Pizzazz propped herself up and crinkled her nose. "I'd like to hear an explanation for that, too."

I cleared me throat. "Blimey, where'd Stormer go?

Sometimes, it's just too bloody easy.

Faster than you can say "Jack Robinson," the three of us were upstairs, in Stormer's room, where we found Miss Phillips daintily packing up her luggage.

"What's going on?" Roxy asked her.

"I'm going home," Stormer answered, without any explanation.

"C'mon, we still have a lot of planning to do," Pizzazz announced. "Let's all meet in the kitchen in ten minutes."

Stormer closed the latches on her keytar case. "I told you, I'm leaving."

Roxy responded with her typical mix of logic and eloquence. "No goddamn way, you're not!"

Stormer, now loaded down with suitcases, struggled to make her way past us. "I already explained. I'm not ever working with Eric again. As much as I love you guys, it's not worth letting him get his hooks into my career, my money, and my music."

I noticed Pizzazz biting her lip as Stormer spoke.

Just what we needed: a bloody bust-up!

"So, this is how it's going to be?" Pizzazz asked, far too calmly. "Stormer's going to dictate to the rest of us." She folded her arms and shook her head. "Unbelievable!"

"Cry me a fuckin' river, Pizzazz," Roxy snorted, before she turned to Stormer. "C'mon, Eric's a dingleberry, but we can handle him."

"That's just it," Stormer said. "I don't need the headache of 'handling' him. I've been willing to join in with all this again because the Hall of Fame hurt my pride, and because being with all of you again had been fun. But having Eric around won't be fun at all. And _Clash_ …"

"That is a tad…well, horrifying, honestly," I nodded. "That bird's a bit on the daft side."

"Clash is out of her mind!" Pizzazz shouted. "So what? She's also the perfect person to crap on Jem's image!"

"Yeah, it worked so well the last time," Roxy laughed, before she began to sing off-key, "Tell me I'm crazy, but maybe I know…"

"Plus, you know, all the people she's offed," I added, as a chill went up me spine.

"Oh, you really believe everything the _government_ tells you?" Pizzazz laughed. "I know Clash—she's too much of a coward to have done all the things they said she did. What she is, is _sneaky_."

"This is the stupidest conversation we've ever had," Stormer moaned, as she pushed past us with her bags and headed down the hallway. "I just can't be a part of all this madness!"

"But we need you!" Roxy shouted, as she rushed to catch her. "All this stuff you're saying—nobody'll say it but you. You're like our…you know, like that cricket guy?"

"Geoffrey Boycott?" I suggested, which received blank stares. "Well, he was a bloody good batsman," I added, with a shrug.

Stormer patted Roxy's shoulders. "You mean, I'm your conscience?"

Roxy nodded. "Yeah—it took a while before we started listening, I guess, but even Pizzazz has gotta admit, we'd have been up shit creek lots of times without you."

As Pizzazz sulked, I gave her a good jab to the ribs. "Ow! Oh, right, _right_! We'd be _totally_ lost without you, Stormer."

I snuck over to Stormer's side and whispered in her ear, "You might as well stay, mate. You know Pizzazz'll just do what she wants, anyway. At least with you around, there's less chance of us all landing in the nick."

Roxy, whose hearing is annoyingly good, added, "Yeah, we only went to jail, what? About a dozen times? Imagine how often we'd have been in the slammer without you around, Stormer, being all whimpery?"

Stormer stuck out her bottom lip. "I don't whimper."

"Keep tellin' yourself that, luv," I told her, as I grabbed one of her bags, while Roxy grabbed the rest.

Stormer shook her head and walked up to Pizzazz. "If I'm going to be a part of this, then we're gonna have to have a talk about ground rules."

"Excuse me?" Pizzazz laughed.

"You heard me," Stormer answered, as she pulled herself up to her full height.

Blimey—I never realized she's the tallest of us.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Roxy asked. "I'll tell the chef to whip up a couple pies or something—maybe a turkey. Turkey sounds good."

"No," Stormer said. "I need to talk with Pizzazz, alone."

Our fearless leader looked utterly gobsmacked.

I think me chin hit the floor as well.

Roxy leaned over and gave me a nudge: "It took her long enough, but the kid's finally learned."

* * *

The first thing I did when I arrived back at Starlight Mansion was hug my boys, even though I know it embarrasses the hell out of David for his dad to get all mushy on him.

I couldn't help it—it's one thing to be told about the most fantastical device ever invented, and another to see the thing up close.

Late that night, I sat up in bed, a million things running through my mind, as Aja slept next to me, dead to the world.

I can't blame her—she'd barely had any sleep since they'd taken Rio to the hospital, as Jerrica seemed close to breaking down over the strain of the past couple days.

It's been the pattern as long as I've known this family: Jerrica takes care of everyone she knows, and Aja takes care of Jerrica.

That's why I really regretted what I was about to do…

"Hey, baby?"

I patted her on the shoulder, gently at first, before shaking her a little harder. "Aja, wake up."

"Hmmhnnmmmhmm," she replied.

"I, uh…I need to talk," I told her.

No response.

Ok, no more playing fair.

I leaned over and planted kisses along the length of her neck, as I ran my fingers along her side, down to her hips. She began to stir as I rubbed her belly, and began nibbling on her earlobe.

Her eyelids began to flutter, as she let out a soft moan.

The moan got louder as I ran my fingers along the insides of her thighs…

She turned her head and puckered her lips, in anticipation. I gave her one kiss…then two, then three.

"Oh, Craig," Aja sighed.

I sat up. "Ok, now that you're awake, we need to talk."

Groggily, she pulled her head up and glared at me. "I'm gonna make you suffer for that, you know?"

"How did you stand it? All those years, knowing this big secret? You know this could change the world if it gets out?"

She rolled onto her side to face me. "We all knew that. That's why we kept it secret from everyone." She yawned as she put her arm around me. "I hope you understand better now, why we did what we did."

"It's just…I _knew_ Jem. I worked with her. And I'll be honest," I laughed, though there was nothing funny about it, "I liked Jem more than Jerrica. It's so bizarre that they were the same person all along."

Here's a useful piece of advice: don't insult your wife's beloved foster sister at one in the morning.

"Well, of course, that was always the downside of Jem—I guess it's good that you didn't say anything to her face. I know how much it hurt her, when people would tell Jem about their beefs with Jerrica. Tell her what a pain and a downer Jerrica could be." Aja shook her head and turned away from me. "I know Emmett never predicted _that_ when he designed Synergy."

I tried to put my arm around her, but Aja scooted over to the very edge of the mattress. "You know I've always liked Jerrica. It's just, Jem was always bright and bubbly, and everyone liked being around her."

Aja sighed as she squeezed her pillow. "Yeah, everyone felt that way. Jerrica knew that. Think about that for a minute: everyone seemed to like this mask she wore more than who she really was."

I nodded. "Yeah, I guess that's true. But, that's what it's like for anyone who's famous, isn't it? I mean, people fall in love with the image of who you are, not the real person."

Aja let out a harsh chuckle. "Yeah, I guess that's true. But Jerrica had the choice of being the image all the time, if she wanted to—so that's what she did. That's why we had to put a stop to Jem."

I could hear the unmistakable sound of my wife muttering to herself. I sprang into action and took her into my arms.

She nuzzled her chin into the crook of my neck. "And the part that really sucks is that I think Jerrica's just fine as herself, whatever anyone else may say."

I ran my fingers through her hair. "Well, you do know best."

"Damn right," Aja muttered, as she idly played with my chest hair.

"Hey," I began, "did you ever use that Synergy thing yourself? Did I ever talk to you without realizing it was you?"

"She's a 'she,' not a thing," she corrected me, before giving me a grin. "And why would I? Was there something wrong with the face I've got?"

I kissed her on the tip of her nose. "Not ever, gorgeous."

Aja scooted up in the bed and pressed her lips against mine, as she ran her foot up my leg. One, two, three kisses, before she began nibbling on my bottom lip.

She came up for air long enough to ask, "Are you gonna make it up to me for waking me up?"

I ran my fingernails down the length of her back. "Oh, if you insist…"

"No teasing this time?"

I grabbed her ass and squeezed until she gasped.

"I'm not making any promises, Aja."

* * *

"This had better be worth my time, Stormer."

A couple years ago, I actually got into a shouting match with the mayor of my town when he tried to force a chemical refinery onto our community. Me, of all people!

I'd have rather argued with him again, than try and make Pizzazz listen to me.

As I closed the door to the sitting room, I took a deep breath. "All right, I want you to hear me out. Tomorrow, we're going to talk to someone at the FBI."

"What?!"

Pizzazz's shriek was so loud, Roxy quickly tapped at the door and asked, "You ok in there?"

"We're fine!" I called out, before I turned my attention back to Pizzazz, who had already folded her arms and turned up her nose.

"Look," I explained. "We do _anything_ with Clash, and we're going to face major jail time. She's one of the ten most wanted fugitives in the country!"

I didn't know if that was technically true or not, but I've learned by now, you don't win arguments with facts.

Pizzazz pretended to examine her nails as she spoke. "You're getting worried over nothing. Nobody will ever know, and even if they find out, I've got the money to make sure the government looks the other way."

"You don't know that for sure," I told her, as I walked over to the liquor cabinet. "She was in Cobra! Didn't they once steal the White House straight from the ground?"

Pizzazz yawned. "You should know by now-everything's about _publicity_! We used to do wilder stunts than that to get on TV."

I finished mixing my rum and coke (I'm no bartender, but I needed a drink, and one heavy on the rum) and asked, "Do you want anything?"

"What? No. Stormer, you always worry too much about everything."

I took a quick sip and gritted my teeth. "Look, you want to outshine Jem? Here's your chance. Imagine the headlines on VNN: 'Rock Legend Leads Feds to Wanted Terrorist.' How does _that_ sound?"

She shifted around in her seat as she turned to face me. "Tempting-but not as good as humiliating Jem, or whoever she really is."

"Well," I shrugged, as I tried to not to gag on my drink, "We go to the FBI, or I walk out of here, for good."

Pizzazz threw back her head and laughed. "Fine, we'll get by without you."

I drained my glass, and already found myself feeling unsteady. "No, you won't. Roxy won't help you without me-I'm sure of it. And without us, do you really think Jetta will hang around?"

Pizzazz said nothing.

On tottering legs, I walked over to Pizzazz and sat on the armrest next to her. "I still want to make the world hear us on the day of the induction ceremony. I still feel like we got screwed. But I don't want to go to jail for working with a fugitive-and I don't want to see you in trouble either."

I put my arm around her.

"You little wimp," Pizzazz muttered.

She didn't push me to the floor, or slap me, or anything.

She really has softened up over the years.

"All right," she muttered. "On one condition: we tell them we can lead Clash to them on the day of the ceremony."

"But-"

"This way, we can still get some use out of her, before we turn her in." A devious smile spread over Pizzazz's face. "And, we can toss Eric to them, too!"

I swallowed hard, and crossed my fingers. "Deal-let's tell the others."

I felt her grab my wrist as I stood up. "Stormer-after all these years, are you gonna tell me you'd _really_ trust Jetta with this?"

I tried and failed not to wince. "She's a Misfit."

Pizzazz grinned. "And, she's Jetta. What was she doing there with Eric, anyway?"

I shook my head. "I dunno."

"Why don't we keep this between us? Our little secret."

I couldn't hide my smile.

"Why don't you make me a drink?" Pizzazz asked. "Let's have a toast…"

"All right. To what?" I asked, as I poured out some more rum.

She leaned back in her chair and tapped her fingers together. "To winning! Finally winning…"

I downed my rum in a flash. I gagged when I realized I forgot the coke.

* * *

I'd forgotten we'd even made plans.

"I've been texting you for hours, Sara!" Stephen pouted. "I thought maybe you met somebody else…"

I've always been interested in astronomy, ever since I was six, and my dad showed me how to use the stars to help me find my direction.

Since we were both going to be in L.A., I'd suggested seeing the Observatory. I know Stephen wasn't thrilled with the suggestion, but he never disagreed with it either.

I spent the whole week making plans for it, when I wasn't visiting with my mom…

Then, Aunt Jerrica showed me Synergy.

"Sara? You all right?" Stephen asked, as I pulled my knees up to my chin. He pulled over, which isn't always the smartest thing to do on the freeway, and stroked my cheek. "I'm not mad, not really. What's bugging you?"

"I, uh…"

I began gnawing at my fingernails as I struggled to think of what to tell him.

Aunt Jerrica had been explicit: "Don't tell anyone what you've seen here."

Easy for her to say. She's not the one who just found out that her mom and her aunts have been sitting on the biggest secret in the world for her whole life.

She's not the one who's mom's last few years might have been more bearable if she wasn't weighted down everything she's had to hide…

"I saw something weird earlier," I mumbled.

Stephen rubbed his chin. "Weird, like a two-headed turtle weird? Or weird, like finding a sex tape of your mom weird?"

I glanced over at him. "That happened to you, too?"

He shrugged.

"Anyway, it wasn't like any of that," I told him. "I found out my mom's been hiding something from me forever. And it's strange…really strange."

He scooted over the gear shift and scrunched up next to me, as passing cars honked their horns at us. "Believe me, I know what it's like to have a strange mom."

"I think this goes beyond anything _she's_ ever done," I sighed.

"You wanna tell me about it?" he asked, as he stroked my hair.

"I…I can't."

"You don't trust me?"

The light from passing cars flashed on his big blue eyes. I nuzzled close to him.

"It's not that I don't want to tell you…it's just, I _can't_. My mom and my Aunt Jerrica made me promise I wouldn't."

He kissed my forehead as he hugged me tight. "Well, whatever it is has made you pretty damn upset. Did your mom and your aunt think about _that_ before they told you?"

I shook my head. "I don't know."

Stephen put his finger on my chin and lifted my head up. "Do you love me?"

I couldn't stop myself from laughing. "I've only known you for a month!"

He leaned over and kissed my lips, for several heart-stopping moments.

"Well," he asked. "Do you think you might someday love me?"

I couldn't resist grinning. "Maybe."

"If we're well on the way to falling in love, as I think we are, what could it hurt to tell me what this big secret is?"

At that hour, in that place, in the mood I was in, and with his hands touching the places they had begun to touch, I had to admit, that question seemed to make sense.

"Stephen?"

"Hmm?" he asked, as he unhooked my bra, while L.A.'s late-night traffic whizzed past us.

"How much do you know about holography?"


	19. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

"I can't believe it," I announced, as I curled up against the armrest of the Rockin' Roadster. "I don't think my stomach could've been any knottier, but we pulled it off."

I heard a small grinding as Jerrica pulled on the gearshift. "I hope so…I hope we did the right thing."

"We should've done it years ago," I insisted. "If we couldn't trust people like Danse or Video, then that says more about us than them."

I glanced over and caught Jerrica grinning. "In your humble opinion, right, Kimber?"

"The humblest," I yawned. "I didn't hear Aja say where she was going."

"Back to the mansion, I think she said." Jerrica shook her head. "Poor Craig—he just stood there with no expression the whole time. I guess it was all too much for him to take in."

I couldn't stop myself from laughing. "Jerrica, you know he already knew, right?"

"What do you mean?"

I sat up as she exited onto the freeway. "Just, his whole demeanor. He had that whole 'I know a secret, but I can't let anyone know I know it' look on his face. I saw it countless times on Sara's face when she was growing up."

Jerrica shook her head. "I guess I've never been that great at picking up on things like that."

I relaxed again and switched on the car's heater, which sputtered and coughed at me. "That's ok, Jerrica. You're good at lots of other things."

"After the last couple days, I think I could use a reminder. Rio's in the hospital; other people know about Synergy now…I don't seem to do anything right anymore."

I reach over and patted her on the leg. "You helped me, sis. I can't say I wasn't aching for a drink when we showed off Synergy earlier, but I know I just wouldn't have been able to handle a night like tonight if it hadn't been for you."

Jerrica reached down and took my hand. "You're not giving yourself enough credit, Kimber. All I could hope to do was just remind you of how important you really are to me…to all of us."

I got distracted when we passed a car stopped on the shoulder, with fogged up windows. "Ooh, I know what they're up to," I laughed.

"Hmm?" Jerrica asked.

"Oh, nothing," I replied. "Do you think Sara's ok? She took off so quick afterwards. Maybe I should've prepared her more for this…"

"She seemed to take it well," Jerrica told me. "I think she handled it better than anyone, to be honest." She started to laugh a little and added, "At least I managed to convince Danse I'm a human being."

"The poor thing," I chuckled. I just managed to stop myself from joking that Danse still managed to take the news better than Rio did.

"Have you given any more thought to who might be behind that fake Jem?" I asked.

"I just wish I could put a stop to all the nonsense about here without…well, without becoming Jem myself again."

Without thinking, I blurted out, "I could do it."

"What?"

"Be Jem."

I felt the car swerve. I thanked my lucky stars we weren't crossing a bridge or something at that moment.

"Kimber, you can't be serious!"

I perked up and watched her as she drove. "Why not?" I asked. "I bet any of us could play her, after all the time we spent around her. She's just a hologram, after all. And I'm sure I could do a good impression of her voice."

I hear my own voice getting carried away, as I imagined what it would be like to be Jem, for one day.

I can't say the thought had never crossed my mind once or twice when I was younger…

"No, it's just too risky," Jerrica sighed. "Besides, what if someone asks where _you_ are?"

"Synergy can project a Kimber hologram, of course." Hey, it made sense to me.

"I don't know…I mean..." Jerrica shook her head as she wove through the late-night traffic. "I don't know if that would be best for you, right now."

"'Cause I'm a drunk," I muttered.

"Kimber…" Jerrica groaned.

There's some things that'll never quite change between Jerrica and me. I think I might be beginning to accept that.

Maybe.

"Never mind," I yawned. "Are we home yet?"

"Still a couple more miles till the exit."

I scooched across the seat and rested my head on Jerrica's shoulder. "Are you happy?"

"About what?"

I chuckled a little. "I mean, in general."

"I'll be a lot happier when I get this mess sorted out," she grumbled. "And when Rio's feeling better."

I could tell that would be all I'd get out of her tonight…

"Hey, Jerrica?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

I felt her wrap her arm around me. "I love you too, Kimber."

I dozed off next to my sister before we made it back home.

* * *

I didn't arrive at the _Overnight with Bobby Howard_ wrap party until well after ten. I don't know if they were even expecting me, since I hadn't appeared on the show in nearly a month.

After showing my pass to Felix from security, I ducked into the ladies' room, tied my hair back in a ponytail, and slipped on some sunglasses.

The fewer questions I had to field about Jem's return, the better.

The PA played the same disc of old hits that played at ever wrap party: Bobby had picked the songs himself, and we all knew the contents by heart. "I'm on Ice," the old Johnny Deacon song, had almost reached the end, and "Take it or Leave it" by the Stingers was sure to follow.

I slipped past a few producers without being seen, before I nearly knocked over Tina Lyme, the sitcom star. "Excuse me," I mumbled, before I caught sight of Bobby out of the corner of my eye.

I overheard him discussing a scene with our director, Hal: "Cause any idiot can do those quick cuts, you know? The last thing I want to hear is all those dorks on the internet complaining that my show's grown tired." He stopped and added, with a grin, "I may have run out of jokes years ago, but that doesn't mean you have to let the audience in on it, right?"

I tapped him on the shoulder, and received a brusque, "No autographs tonight," for my trouble.

I slapped him across the back, "Hey, _cabrón_!" I laughed. "It's me."

Bobby swiveled around; his irritation quickly disappeared. "Raya! Hey, just the woman I was hoping to see. I was telling the network this morning, if I asked Jem personally, she just might—"

"Can we talk in private?" I asked, before he could draw any more attention to me.

We escaped the party and headed down the hall to the little corner office that I never use. "Sorry," I said, "I just didn't want to talk about Jem in front of everyone."

"Hey, I understand," Bobby nodded, as he took a seat behind my desk. "You don't want to risk fucking up the deal. No problem. Now, I was thinking, when you get a chance, you could hint to her that we're willing to give her the entire hour."

I sighed, as I slumped into a chair. "I don't know if you saw the press release Starlight Music put out, but that woman's not Jem."

Bobby nodded, softly. "I see. There's still some kind of rift between her and the label. No problem, I get it. Still, you get along with everybody. I'm sure she'll listen to you."

"It really isn't her," I repeated. "We're still trying to figure out who's behind this."

Bobby laughed. "Look, I don't know what she's holding out for, but our budget only goes so high. But you can tell her she can sing for the whole hour-or she can not sing at all, if she doesn't want to. She can spin fuckin' plates, I don't care. I just want her on the show!"

Thankfully, we were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Bobby's assistant, Marlene, popped her head in. "Someone out here wants to talk to you."

"I'm in the middle of something here," Bobby insisted. "Come back in five."

"I was talking to Ms. Alonso."

I shrank into the seat. "Tell them I'm not here."

I heard a voice from behind the door. "I'm afraid your cover's been blown, Raya-I already saw you at the party."

A man in his early sixties popped his curly, salt and pepper hair into the office, soon followed by the rest of him. He was tall, with a slight paunch, and a face I'd seen countless times over the years.

"Marvin Lassiter?" I gasped.

He grinned. "That's what they call me, when they're polite, anyway."

I glanced over at Bobby. He looked shocked.

Even in my business, it's not every day that the world's biggest media mogul asks to see you.

"Can…can I help you?" I asked, as I stood to shake his hand.

"You might be able to," he grinned. "If you can put me in touch with Jem."

 _Ratas._

"Mr. Lassiter, I was just explaining to Bobby that the woman who held that press conference can't possibly be the real Jem."

He put his thumbs under the lapel of his jacket for a moment and looked up towards the ceiling. "Raya, perhaps we could have a word…in private."

Bobby's jaw dropped. I think it's been years since anyone ordered him to do _anything_.

As he left, Lassiter turned to me and invited me to take a seat behind my desk. "I didn't expect to run into you tonight."

"You didn't?" I asked.

"I was here to speak to an old friend from the network. But, as I always do, I seized an opportunity when it presented itself."

I found myself looking down at my hands. "I didn't even know you knew who I am."

He let out a booming laugh. "You underestimate how popular Jem and the Holograms once were. How popular they still are."

"I was just the drummer," I reminded him. "Jem was the real star."

"Indeed, she was," he said. "I'm sure Jerrica Benton must be horrified by the imposter."

I sat up and looked him in the eye. "Yes, she's very concerned."

"I can imagine. So many more people know her secret now. Even I know that she was really Jem-that Jem was merely a holographic illusion."

I gripped the desk and struggled to swallow. "How could you possibly have found out?"

He shook his head and laughed. "All I knew was a load of half-baked speculation. That is, until I met the woman stupid enough to confirm it for me."

 _Puta mierda!_

My cheeks burned as I stammered out, "I…I don't know what you mean."

Lassiter flashed a toothy grin. "Raya, I didn't get to where I am today by listening to bullshit." He leaned forward and rested his palms on the desk. "Now, I'm aware of people who also know about Jerrica's hologram machine, who could cause a lot of trouble for her."

I shook my head, over and over. "You're lying. You're just trying to intimidate me."

"You know that's not true," he chuckled. "I can see it in your face. You've been caught red-handed, and now you want to know what the catch is."

I sighed. "What kind of catch?"

"Nothing too drastic," Lassiter answered, softly. "You know, I meant what I said about how popular Jem and the Holograms still. I imagine they produce quite a nice stream of revenue for Jerrica's company."

"I wouldn't know," I answered, truthfully. "Jerrica and I don't discuss her business."

"Hmm, I understand. Well, perhaps it's time you start. I want you to relay a very generous offer to her."

I allowed myself to feel hopeful for a moment. "What kind of offer?"

He smiled, so obviously relishing the moment. "It's simple. I'll agree to help ensure that word doesn't get out about her little supercomputer, and in exchange, she'll sign over _half_ of Starlight Music to me."

"Half of her company?!" I blurted out. "No, I could never ask Jerrica to do something like that."

Lassiter tented his fingers together and nodded. "Of course you can't. How silly of me." Little by little, his face broke into a grin. "Tell her to sign over _full_ control of Starlight Music."

I lurched out of my chair and rushed to the window. I looked out on the darkness that even Hollywood is cloaked by at night, and struggled to think of a reply. "You don't know anything," I muttered. "You have no proof, no evidence…nothing!"

He stood and walked to the door. He paused just long enough to say one word, loud and clear…

"Synergy."

As he left the room, I sank back into my seat.

My best friend.

The woman I owe my career to.

Her life's work.

Her mission in the world.

All of it, in Lassiter's hands. Starlight Music…Starlight Mansion…everything.

And the burden of bringing this bad news to her had fallen on my shoulders.

I pushed myself away from the desk and sank to my knees.

The thick carpet stung as it scraped my bare knees.

" _Mi Madre_ ," I whispered. "Ask God to give me strength; ask Him for his help," I pleaded. "'Cause I don't know what the hell I'm going to do."

* * *

Sara's such a strange girl. She's sweet, sure, and she's hot, and she takes great philosophy notes, but still, she's pretty damn weird.

She's always wanting to know how I'm feeling. I'm still trying to figure out what her game is with that.

Also, when I tell her I'm going somewhere, she doesn't demand to know where, or try to stop me. It makes me wonder if she even cares…

Well, not that _I_ care. She's just a good lay, that's all. Nothing more than that.

Really.

Anyway, the weirdest thing about her is how she'll tell me whatever she's thinking, even her biggest secrets. I can never figure out her motive behind that.

Strange.

After I dropped her off for the night, I spent several sleepless hours thinking of the crazy story she told me.

A story so crazy, I couldn't help but believe it…a little.

The next morning, I drove up to a chintzy little office building that looked like a toy compared to the properties my family owns. I rushed upstairs and began searching the hallways for anything marked "Raymond."

When I reached the fourth floor, I passed a chiropractor's office and a dance studio, before I reached a door marked "E-Ray Industries."

Inside, a fit MILF of a secretary cradled a coffee cup in her palms as she watched a copy machine spit out page after page of no doubt useless information. She glanced at me for only a moment, asking, "Do you have an appointment?"

"No."

She chuckled to herself. "Mr. Raymond's not seeing anyone without an appointment."

I walked past her and headed to the office door. "He'll see me."

"I'll call security," she warned, as I stepped through the door.

Inside, the old man sat at his desk, yakking on the phone. "…I'll ask Clash about it later." He looked up and noticed me. "I'll call you back."

He put the phone down and grinned. "Ah, Stephen, my son. I'm so happy to see you again."

"Yeah, I'm sure," I told him. 'I'm, uh…I'm not here for a family reunion or anything. I want to talk business."

He leaned back in his chair and watched me. I don't think he ever blinked. "So, you've reconsidered my offer?"

"Maybe," I said. "I've got some information I think you'll be interested in."

"I'm interested in hearing anything you have to say," Raymond declared.

I told him what Sara told me: Jerrica Benton owned an ultra-powerful holographic computer, and that Jem had never really existed.

Raymond nodded as I spoke. When I finished, he muttered, "Quite a story. Do you have any proof?"

"No," I sighed. "But I can get it."

He laughed as he stroked the gray whiskers on his chin. "Oh, you can? And what do you expect in return?"

I folded my arms and looked him in the eye. "You'll leave my mom alone from now on. I don't want you bothering her again."

Raymond stood and circled around me, his hands clasped behind his back. "And what if she _wants_ to see me, hmm?"

I laughed in his face. "She never would."

He put his hand on my shoulder, which I soon jerked away. "You've got a lot to learn," he told me. "Luckily, I'm a good teacher."

"Do we have a deal?" I asked.

He held out his hand.

I hesitated, before shaking it.

That had been a hell of a lot easier than I'd imagined.

I guess I've got the old Gabor touch.

* * *

I tried not to yawn that morning as Riot explained the intricacies of his byzantine plan to exploit the rivalry between the Misfits and the Holograms to our benefit, while at the same time using Techrat's infernal "Obstructor" machine to somehow convince Jerrica Benton to become Jem again. (I know you Americans had to stop and look up "byzantine." So pathetic: American education pales in comparison to schooling in Germany!).

I normally find Riot a compelling speaker, but Techrat had made sure I'd received very little sleep the night before.

"Minx, are you listening?" Riot asked, with no emotion in his voice.

"Yes, yes, of course," I nodded, as I leaned back in one of Rapture's maddeningly disorienting beanbag chairs. "You were saying something about Eric Raymond."

Riot nodded. "Eric informed me earlier that all four Misfits have agreed to his plans."

"Even the one that used to have blue hair?" I asked. She had always been the most annoying of them—at least the others were actually good at being overgrown delinquents. She couldn't even do _that_ well!

"This sounds like good news all around, then," Rapture chimed in, as she sipped her tea while sitting on top of her desk in the lotus position. She always been a morning person, God knows why.

"Indeed it is," Riot proclaimed. "And we shall soon direct their anarchy in the manner we choose, and they won't even realize it."

"Delicious," Rapture purred.

"And what about Lassiter?" I asked.

Riot laughed as he strode across the room. "He'll dance to my tune as easily as Eric has. I've managed to impress even myself with just how well this plan has come together."

"Hear, hear," Rapture proclaimed, as she lifted her cup into the air.

Riot turned to her and smiled. "And now, here is where you come in."

"It is?" she asked, as she struggled to un-pretzelize her legs.

"I need you to contact all of your TEM members who work in the media," he explained. "I want them to play up this new 'Jem' as much as possible, as well as the Misfits and their petty grievances. I want the pressures around Jerrica built up to a boil."

"But, why? She's Jem, after all," I reminded him.

"Exactly," Riot explained, with a grin. "And when the pressures on her become too much to bear, she'll need someone to rescue her." As the morning light streamed through the window, he spread his arms wide. "My timing will be perfect."

Rapture stood and applauded. "This may be your most brilliant plan yet!"

"I have no doubt of that," Riot chuckled. "Now, Minx and I will leave you to your work. You have calls to make."

Rapture's applause slowed to a stop.

A few minutes later, Riot and I walked through the exquisitely tended gardens of the TEM Institute. Walking bores me, so I stopped for a moment and rested on a berm that ran up one side of the main building.

I shaded my eyes as I watched Riot walk to the nearby duck pond. I noticed something odd. I assumed something must be wrong with my eyes, but I rubbed them, again and again, yet I kept seeing it.

"Riot, you're limping!" I called out.

He paused and stiffened his back. "Hardly," he muttered, before he let out a sigh. "Perhaps a little. I seemed to have pulled something last week while climbing the stairs at our Zurich office."

"The elevator broke down again?" I groaned. "Disgraceful!"

Riot rubbed his hand along the side of his thigh for a moment as he declared, "I fired the maintenance crew that afternoon, I can assure you."

"Good," I nodded.

Riot took a few more steps, then shook his head. "Growing older is a headache I could do without."

The lines and creases on his face stood out in the mid-morning sun. Even the Botox couldn't hide them.

Riot's still devastatingly handsome. That's never changed.

But he's older now. We all are.

I took a deep breath. "Consider yourself lucky," I told him, as I reached into my ear, "that you don't have to wear this."

He walked over to me and took a seat on the berm, as he examined my hearing aid. "How long have you had this?" he asked.

"About three years now," I replied, as I snatched it back from him. "The doctor said all those loud concerts took their toll."

A small grin creased Riot's lips. "I'm surprised you haven't mentioned it before."

I leaned back against the grass. "I know you don't like to hear about…imperfections."

"True enough," he muttered. "Although, Rapture wears them in both ears now."

I jolted upright. "She does?! She never mentioned it to _me_." Rapture would hear about this, I assured myself. The nerve, not telling me something personal like that, after all the years I'd known her!

Riot found that funny, for some reason.

He began to pick at the grass and toss it away. "I envy Jem."

"You mean Jerrica?"

He shook his head. "No, Jem. She'll never grow old—she'll retain her perfection forever."

"But she's not real," I reminded him. "The real woman behind her could never hope to be as perfect as you."

Riot sat quietly for a moment. "I think I'd give up being 'real' if it meant I'd never age again…never change."

I didn't know what to say to that.

We watched for a few minutes as Rapture's TEM followers rushed to and fro, ready to put Riot's orders into effect. I turned and watched his face.

"Riot?" I asked, "What are you hoping to get out of all this? Power? Jem? Jerrica?"

I didn't expect his answer…

"I have no idea, Minx."

Riot smiled at me.

* * *

The scariest thing is, for a brief instant, I considering saying "Yes."

The moment passed quickly—I couldn't possibly turn Starlight Music over to someone as unscrupulous as Marvin Lassiter—but for a moment, any possibility of protecting Synergy seemed worth considering.

After Raya left, I turned and looked out the window onto the streets below, as people rushed here and there on their lunch hours.

I thought of how their world could be turned upside down if Synergy fell into the wrong hands.

I've had to deal with those thoughts since my father died.

I pulled the drapes shut, blocking out any prying eyes from the nearby buildings.

I sat at my desk and placed my hands to my temples.

I concentrated…

 _I hear you calling me, Jerrica._

"Synergy, I need your help."

A purple flash lit up the room for an instant. I looked up to see Synergy's face—kind, wise, yet distant—looking down on me. "How can I assist you?"

"Raya told me that Lassiter knows about you. He wouldn't say how, but she said he implied that others know. I don't know what to do."

I watched her face to see if I could pick up some clue to what she was thinking, but her expression never changed.

"I have discovered some unusual anomalies recently," Synergy announced. "I had not reported them to you, because I have not calculated a satisfactory hypothesis to their meaning."

"What kind of anomalies?"

"An unusual series of power spikes in the electric grid. Similar, but not identical, to what my systems consume whenever I create a hologram."

I felt my stomach tighten. "You mean…someone else has built a machine like you?"

Synergy frowned. "I don't see that as a likely possibility, Jerrica. The odds that someone could create a computer similar to me are less than one one-thousandth of one percent."

I nodded. "But…what if they found out information about you, somehow?"

Her brow creased. What was that look? Sadness? Embarrassment? "Then, the odds would increase," she replied.

"How long have these power spikes been going on?"

"After examining the files of the power company, I determined they began several months ago."

I stood and turn the information over in my head. "Until the other day, only the Holograms and I knew anything about you." I stopped myself and added, "Well, and Ashley. But she wouldn't have told anyone."

"There was also President Boyd," Synergy reminded me.

I pondered that for a moment. "Hmm…I doubt he would've told. And he died years ago…"

"I know I haven't told anyone about me."

I glanced up and tried my best not to grin at her. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say you just cracked a joke."

Synergy smiled. "Your father programmed me to help you."

It always feels good to laugh for a moment.

"Do you think this might have something to do with the enemy you sensed?" I asked.

Synergy nodded, without a word.

"I wish Father were here," I sighed. "He'd know what to do. He'd find a way to protect you, and Starlight House, and all my friends. He'd know just what to say, and do."

Synergy circled around me for a moment, before she held out her hand to me. "Perhaps he still can."

"What do you mean?"

"Take my hand, Jerrica, and I will show you."

I reached out to her, before pulling back. "What…what are you going to do?"

"Remember, I am programmed with your father's diaries and other writings," she told me, with a smile.

"I…I don't think I can."

I'd known that for years about Synergy. I knew if I asked, she could whip up a hologram of my Father who would be exactly as I remembered him, down to the smallest detail…

I also knew if I ever did that, I'd never be able to let go of him again.

"Jerrica," Synergy said, with as much warmth as a hologram could muster, "He has been waiting for you, inside me, for twenty-seven years. He has been waiting for the moment when you were ready to see him again."

I began wiping away tears I hadn't realized I had cried. "I don't think I'm ready."

I heard a faint, distant voice that nearly made me stop breathing. "You always underestimate yourself, Jerrica. I wish so much that you could look at all you've accomplished and _know_ that you can succeed at whatever you put your mind to."

I felt my knees buckle. "Daddy!" I gasped. "Synergy, where is he?"

"Take my hand."

"You're a hologram," I reminded her.

"Take my hand, Jerrica, and let us help you."

I reached to her, and waited for my hand to pass through her image.

I felt her hand grasp mine.

Too startled to move, I closed my eyes for an instant.

I opened them to find we'd left my office, and the present day, far behind.

* * *

(And that's all I've got. After writing that, my life changed quite a bit, and I never added anything more. I don't intend to add anything further, but posting what I wrote gets a weight off my chest).


End file.
